


Explorations in Three–Dimensional Euclidean Space

by wendymr



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Post-s9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:26:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5246579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendymr/pseuds/wendymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Robbie, where's Laura?"</i></p><p>SPOILERS for Series 9, especially the ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return

**Author's Note:**

> With very, very many thanks to Owlbsurfinbird for thoughtful BRing and enthusiastic cheerleading, both of which are invaluable.

_You’re still coming home next weekend, aren’t you? I can meet you at the airport, if you like. It’d be a shame to deviate from old habits. I can bring the sign, just in case you’ve forgotten what I look like._

James stops typing and bangs his head against the edge of his desk, twice for good measure, and then deletes the last sentence. 

_Besides, you won’t want to queue for a taxi after a twenty–four–hour flight. Email me your flight number and I’ll be there._

_Love to Laura – J._

Before he can think better of it, he clicks send, then closes the laptop and surges to his feet, pausing only to grab his overcoat on the way out the door. He’s not going to sleep anyway, so another few hours going over the evidence so far on the latest case won’t hurt. It’s not as if he’s got anything better to do.

* * *

It’s been the longest six months of James’s life. Worse, even, than those first few weeks as a DI when he could barely tell his arse from his elbow and he was a complete dickhead to everyone. Then, he’d refused to acknowledge what he was missing, and made an even worse arse of himself when Robbie came out of retirement.

Now, he knows better. He’s missed Robbie Lewis so much it’s felt like withdrawal. Not on the job; he’s more than proved he doesn’t need Robbie’s genius to solve cases, though there’ve been times he’d have given his next dozen cigarettes for just five minutes chewing through evidence with his old mentor. It’s everything else: those cups of coffee or pints after work, the casual, often mocking but just as often affectionate banter – and the physical presence in his life of the man who’s done more for James than anyone else. The man he’s long ago buried deeper feelings for, but whose presence in James’s life was, it now appears, almost as essential as breathing. 

Workwise, it’s been a positive half–year, as he’s casually mentioned here and there to Robbie in those emails that have been longer and more plentiful on his side than from the Antipodes. Highest solve rate in the nick, which hasn’t gone unnoticed by Moody – though what he’s not told Robbie and he’s certain not even Lizzie suspects is that the even longer hours he’s been putting in have a lot to do with it. Moody’s even started hinting about a DCI position that might come vacant in the next few months. 

Robbie’d say go for it – but Robbie was always more ambitious than James. Ambitious _for_ James, too.

And most of the hours he hasn’t spent working, he’s spent at the care home. Sitting by his dad’s bedside, reading to the man who doesn’t know who he is any more, and much of the time isn’t even aware that anyone’s there. The strokes left him semi–paralysed and unable to speak, and his memory’s more absent than present these days. It’s only a matter of time, he and Nell have been told, and for Nell and his father’s sake James hopes the end is sooner rather than later. There’s no quality of life there, not any more, and in every day that passes he sees the strain on Nell’s face increase. 

Robbie’s asked about his dad every time he emails. _As well as can be expected_ , he’s said. _I’m reading to him a lot_ , he’s said. _I’m glad_ , Robbie’s said.

And now, at last, the six months are up. Robbie and Laura are on a plane somewhere over the eastern Mediterranean, and James can’t stop fidgeting. Can’t concentrate on work. They’re due to land shortly before noon, and it’ll be at least an hour before they clear Customs and retrieve their luggage. It’s far too soon to leave. He’s got time to finish the productivity report Moody’s been asking for, and still make it to Heathrow before their plane even touches ground.

Just a quick ciggie, and then he’ll get it done. 

Lizzie passes him on his way out of the office, and then pauses and catches his arm. “You’re not supposed to be here today. Aren’t you...?”

“I’ve work to do. There’s no rush.” Casual, offhand, revealing nothing of how important this day is to him.

Her eyes soften. “Moody’ll wait another day. Go on, get out of here.” _You’re gonna be useless anyway_ , her crooked smile says.

James shakes his head. “I’ve time to finish it. Quick smoke, and then...” He quirks an eyebrow and adds loftily. “When I was a sergeant, I always kept my inspector supplied with coffee when he needed it. And not the canteen muck, either.”

“Didn’t you get the memo? Sergeants aren’t glorified slaves any more, _sir_.” She gives him a cheeky grin as she brushes past him, and he knows a decent Americano will be waiting on his desk when he gets back.

* * *

He enters the arrivals hall ten minutes after the plane landed. The report’s finished and on Moody’s desk; not his best work, but it served to keep him mostly distracted for the couple of hours that needed to pass until he could reasonably leave.

Now, with the reunion less than an hour away, he’s seized with the impulse to turn and run. Such a mess he made of things, saying goodbye to Robbie. _Long flight_ , _have fun_ and _you’ll be missed_ , when he should have been thanking Robbie for the years of stalwart friendship, for everything James has learnt from him, for everything Robbie’s forgiven him for. Should have wished him well and told him that _he’ll_ miss him. Should have smiled and hugged them both as easily as he’d hugged Laura, and looked happy for them.

No wonder Robbie’s emails have been few and far between.

Robbie hasn’t said anything in those emails about wanting another contract at the nick. Maybe that’s for the best. Robbie can ease back into retirement, find something else to do with his time, and James will let him and Laura live their lives undisturbed by him. They don’t need a hanger–on, and especially not one who can’t even be genuinely happy for them. Who’s constantly battling feelings he has no right to. 

Laura was right when she’d said it, however much in jest it’d been: _Pining for Robbie?_. _Always_ , he’d said, burying the truth under a characteristic layer of irony.

Two cigarettes later, he’s staring up at the arrivals board again, the _Landed 11:25_ unchanged. Half an hour ago. Only another thirty minutes, and then– 

“Oi! Some copper you are, if I can sneak up on you wheeling a bloody great luggage trolley!”

Rigid with shock, for a moment he can barely breathe. Then, butterflies taking residence in his abdomen, James turns.

It’s Robbie. _Just_ Robbie. And, even as James scans the nearby area for Laura, he’s vaguely aware that there’s less luggage on the trolley than the day he saw them off.

“She’s not here.” Robbie’s so matter–of–fact about it that James assumes she’s just gone to the loo. But then the luggage... “She decided to stay on a bit longer.”

_Pull yourself together, you dolt._ Explanations can come later. He holds out his hand. “Welcome home, Robbie. It’s good to see you.”

Robbie raises one eyebrow in the mildly disbelieving look James hasn’t seen for so long. Christ, he’s missed Robbie’s entire library of expressions. He ignores James’s hand and instead reaches an arm around his shoulders in a half–hug. “Good to see you, too. Hope I have been missed, like you said?”

“You have.” They start walking together down the long hallway towards the exit. “Moody says if you’re still interested in coming back to work, come and see him when you’re ready.”

Robbie snorts faintly. “Wasn’t talking about the gov’nor.”

Right. Robbie doesn’t go straight for the jugular all that often, but when he does... James glances towards his friend. “Yes. I missed you.”

His only answer is an entirely typical Robbie grin.

* * *

Robbie’s clearly exhausted, just as he was ten years ago when James first made this journey to pick him up. It’s not the time to talk. He selects a mix of gently-soothing classical music on the iPod, the soft tones streaming through the Jaguar’s high-quality sound system. Robbie leans his head back, eyes closed, as James merges onto the M25. 

He’s not sleeping, though. The question comes before James has even driven out of the multi–storey. “How’s your dad?”

“Failing fast.” There’s no other way to put it.

Robbie nods. “I’m glad I’m back, then.”

_It’s not your problem_ , James is tempted to say, but he knows Robbie Lewis too well. First, Robbie would tell him his father isn’t a problem, and then he’d point out that James is his mate and that’s all there is to it. So instead, all he says is, “Thanks.”

“You still reading to him?”

“Whenever I can. Mostly at night. He finds it hard to settle. He doesn’t know either of us any more, but it’s possible that somewhere in his subconscious my voice sounds familiar.”

“Yeah.” Robbie’s eyes drift shut again, and James is taken back to last night; he’d gone straight to the care home after spending a couple of hours at his desk working on his budget request for the coming year. Nell had been there, but she’d been exhausted, so he’d sent her home. He’d read from Mother Julian of Norwich’s _Revelations of Divine Love_ , reaching out to touch his dad’s hand whenever he became restless, and had then woken suddenly at after three in the morning, the book lying upside–down on his lap. Not for the first time, and it won’t be the last.

Robbie shifts in his seat as James exits the airport complex. “Never asked. What made you buy a Jaguar?”

James huffs a little, self–mocking. “Vanity.” He curves his lips downwards. “Remember I told you I’d inherited money from a distant relative last year?”

“Your great–uncle, you said?” Robbie’s turned to face him now, eyes only slightly open, but James still knows he’s being watched like a hawk. 

James nods, signalling to change lanes. They’re close to the M40 junction. His aunt who’d died from motor neurone disease had been estranged from her father, and James hadn’t even known the man existed. “His will said I’d been kind to her. I don’t know how he knew... Anyway.” That explained the flat, and the new suits – and the car. Most of the rest is going to pay for the care home, of course, and a few things for Nell. He smiles softly, remembering. “She always said she wished she could afford to spoil me. So I told myself I was doing what she’d wanted. Or I could’ve just been being a show–off.”

“Sounds like you were.” God, he’s missed that reassuring voice. “But why a Jag, specifically?”

James waits until they’ve safely merged onto the M40. “As I said, vanity – especially since police–issue vehicles for DIs aren’t bad. We had BMWs for a while, even.” A faint shake of his head. “I’d heard about Morse’s Jag. And, not that I’m in any way comparing myself to him, I wanted to have something that distinctive. Even though I know there are people calling me a stuck–up tosser.”

Robbie laughs. “There are worse reasons. Morse once told me he got his because women like flash cars. Anyway, you’ve always been called that. Neither of our faces ever fit, did they? It worked, though. _We_ worked.”

“We did.” Nostalgia seeps through his voice, unbidden. “I never thought, though. Do you mind? Me driving a Jag?”

That gets him an amused shake of the head. “Don’t be daft. I’m not bothered about that sort of thing. Anyway, you are a lot like Morse, maybe more than you realise. Just don’t go abusin’ your health the way he did, that’s all.”

He presses a hand briefly to his heart, meeting Robbie’s gaze for the split–second gesture. The approving nod he gets is acceptance of his promise.

* * *

A little over an hour later, he pulls up outside Robbie and Laura’s house. It’s been empty for the past six months, of course, but James has been over a couple of times a week: checking post for anything urgent, making sure there’s nothing untoward. He kept an eye on the garden as well, as much as he could between work and spending time with his father. At Laura’s insistence, a cleaner has been in every couple of weeks to keep the dust down; James had offered to look after that as well, but was kindly rebuffed.

“Home,” he announces unnecessarily, pushing the button to open the boot. 

“Right.”

The distinct lack of enthusiasm in Robbie’s tone and body language is enough to make James break his resolve to say nothing unless Robbie brought the subject up. He takes a deep breath. “Robbie, where’s Laura?”

“New Zealand.” It’s said impatiently. James just looks at him, and after a moment Robbie sighs. “I’m not tryin’ to hide stuff from you, James. I’m just knackered, all right? Let me get a few hours’ kip, an’ then come round this evening. We’ll talk then.”

He nods agreement with an understanding smile, then immediately swings out of the car. Just under a minute to help Robbie in with the luggage, check that there’s nothing he needs, and then he leaves his friend alone to get settled in. He doesn’t bother telling Robbie that there are staples in the fridge and cupboards, including milk, bread and so on – Robbie will discover that for himself if he goes poking around. 

Later, then. What could have happened to keep Laura on the other side of the world – and for Robbie not to have stayed with her?

* * *

He stops to pick up a sandwich on the way back to the nick, and is at his desk before two. Lizzie, alerted to his return by the sergeants’ grapevine, is in the office less than a minute later. “So, how are they? They have a great time, yeah?”

“Long flight,” he says, looking up only briefly. “Ergo, not a lot of conversation.” And he leaves it at that, and Lizzie can make of it what she wills. It’s up to Robbie whether he wants it to be known that Laura didn’t come back with him.

And anyway, what the bloody blazes does _decided to stay on a bit longer_ mean? A week? A month? Longer? And why, after six months out there? And why did Robbie come back alone, rather than staying with her? What does it mean for the state of their relationship? Do they even _have_ a relationship any more?

But there are no answers, and won’t be until Robbie chooses to explain. Which he’s promised will be this evening, though James isn’t holding his breath. Robbie doesn’t have the greatest history with anything resembling explanations.

He gets a text, though, a little before six. _Hope you’re not still at work. Come over for dinner. And, no, you don’t need to bring anything._

A reluctant smile tugs at his lips. The more things change... He types back, _When?_

The reply takes a few seconds. _Now, you daft sod._

_Charming_ , he replies, and powers down his computer.

Robbie looks more awake than someone who’s barely had time for four hours’ sleep has any right to. He leads James through to the kitchen, where pasta is gently bubbling away, and a bottle of New Zealand red stands, uncorked, on the table. Gesturing to James to pour, Robbie returns to the hob and begins stirring. “Must be the earliest you’ve left work since I left,” he comments, looking across at James with a knowing grin. “Forgotten how to sleep, have you?”

“Jumping to conclusions a bit, aren’t you?” James retorts, passing Robbie a glass.

“Nope.” Robbie sips his wine. “You’re not the only one who’s been emailing me, y’know.”

“Lizzie.” James sighs. “I can see I need to have a word with her about discretion.”

“Yeah, right. Don’t tell me you never tipped Laura off if you thought there was something she needed to know.” Robbie reaches for plates and puts them in the microwave to warm. “Mind, she also told me you’ve had a good run of solves. Even a couple of commendations. Notice you didn’t tell me about those.”

“We’ve both had our share of those over the years. It’s hardly news.”

“It is news if Moody’s looking at you for the next DCI vacancy.” The pride in Robbie’s voice makes James look away as he feels his face turn pink. “Speaking of, I’ve got an appointment with him in the morning.”

That makes James look back at Robbie. “You didn’t waste any time.”

Robbie just shrugs, and James nods. He knows, after all. Robbie can’t stand being idle. Why he’d ever imagined that Robbie might settle for retirement this time, he has no idea. Laura’d told him what Robbie’d said about staying until he’s carried out. Robert Lewis is bloody lucky to have such an understanding woman in his life.

Dinner is surprisingly good, and Robbie explains that he got Laura’s nephew, who apparently does most of the cooking, to teach him some straightforward and tasty meals. “No more voyages of discovery, then?”

Robbie swipes at James with his napkin. “Any more o’ that and you’re on washing–up duties.”

He reaches across to top up James’s glass, but James covers it with his hand. “Driving. Can’t.”

Robbie shrugs again. “Could stay here. You know there’s room.”

James shakes his head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m going to read to my father after I leave here.”

Robbie nods and pushes back his chair. “Coffee, then?”

Ah, so the Laura explanation is coming next. “Please.”

He follows Robbie into the living–room, where a fire’s already blazing. “Bloody unfair,” Robbie grumbles as they sit, Robbie on the sofa and James in his usual armchair. “Winter was only a month or two off when we got to New Zealand, an’ now it’s on its way here too.”

“I’ll buy you a scarf for Christmas,” James promises with a smirk, then, sobering, gives Robbie an expectant stare.

“All right, all right.” Robbie pulls a face, but sits forward and begins to talk. “Laura’s staying out there, at least for another year. She got introduced to a friend of her niece’s, who’s a professor at the University of Auckland’s department of forensic science. Long story short, they offered her a twelve–month research fellowship in forensic medicine. They’re even talking about paying for her to apply for registration as a doctor in New Zealand – and that takes about six months.”

“So,” James says slowly, as Robbie falls silent, “she might be offered another contract?” It’s not lost on him, nor on Robbie, he assumes, that this is exactly the position Robbie was in at the nick.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Robbie sips his coffee. “Would she take it? I honestly don’t know.”

Did they even discuss it? Didn’t Robbie _ask?_ Or is it that Laura herself doesn’t know? Will she come back at all?

There’s a cold lump settling in James’s gut. No matter what his own feelings may be, he’s only ever wanted Robbie to be happy, and being with Laura makes him happy. “Robbie, are you two all right? Are... are _you_ all right?”

“I’m fine,” Robbie says immediately, and he’s meeting James’s gaze. He’s not pretending – at least, mostly not. “Look, being out there together for that long, an’ neither of us working... Whatever Laura thought about needing a break, an’ I know she was feeling burnt out, it’s not so easy once you actually try it. I know. Look how long my retirement lasted! I tried to tell her that, but... well, she thought it’d be different with both of us not working.”

In other words, once they no longer had their working relationship as well as the personal one, and once they were spending twenty–four hours a day together, the relationship wasn’t working? But he won’t ask. It’s not his business – and, besides, the last time he spoke his mind on Robbie’s relationship with Laura, it didn’t go down very well. Even if Robbie clearly did take his words to heart in the end.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Robbie adds. “We’ve not split up. We’re... taking a break. Yeah, like I did from me retirement, I know.” He pulls a face. James doesn’t comment on the obvious fact of what happened to Robbie’s retirement once he took a break. “We both got bored, yeah. In hindsight, we should’ve gone out there for a month and left it at that. Would’ve been long enough. Anyway, Laura got that offer, but it wouldn’t have been anything like as easy for me to get a job out there – I couldn’t work as a copper, and who’d employ me for anything else, at my age? So we agreed that I’d come home as planned.”

And Laura’s happy being out there without Robbie? She’s happy that he’s back in Oxford without her? 

“An’ I know you’re wondering and hesitatin’ to ask. I’m chuffed for her. It’s a great opportunity for her. Something she’s wanted to do for years. I encouraged her to take it. Yeah, would’ve been nicer if it’d been here in Oxford, but there was no chance of that happening. She’d applied a few times over the years and never even got an interview.”

James nods. He hadn’t known that, but it fits with what he’s seen of Laura’s fascination with the entire field of forensic pathology. She’s always gone beyond what’s expected of a pathologist, researching and finding obscure information for them that’s, on many occasions, significantly contributed to solving cases. He’s missed her skills and work ethic, as well as missing her as a friend. 

“If it’ll ease your mind at all,” Robbie adds, “I phoned her just before you came over. Seven o’clock in the morning there, it was. She’s fine. Sends her love to you. An’ I’ve got no problem with you phoning her yourself if you need reassurance – or just want to keep in touch. I’ll give you her number.”

Still friends, then – but will they still be partners once Laura does come home? Will she come home? It’s clear that Robbie doesn’t know the answer to those questions either. 

All the same, there are things Robbie must know but hasn’t said – but they’re things James won’t ask, even if he’d like to. He won’t let Robbie off the hook entirely, though. Almost as he would in an interview room, he directs a thoughtful, questioning look at his friend, one that says he’s well aware that Robbie’s holding back. His body language is relaxed, deliberately sending the simultaneous signal that he won’t apply pressure.

“To save you asking, yes, we do love each other.” There’s no defensiveness or hesitation in Robbie’s words. “And, yes, I have told her. But is love enough? Don’t think either of us is sure about that at the moment. Maybe after we’ve been apart for a while? Who knows.”

James nods. He’s got lots of questions, but this is only his business in as much as Robbie’s prepared to make it his business. And all that matters to James is that Robbie isn’t grieving for the loss of another love.

“There is one thing.” He leans forward, closer to Robbie. “What are you going to tell people? I know it’s none of anyone’s business,” he adds quickly. “But Lizzie asked how you both were when I got back to the station. I didn’t tell her Laura didn’t come back. But the news will spread, and if you’re coming back to work...”

Robbie shrugs one shoulder. “Surprised it hasn’t already. It didn’t occur to me until I was already in the air, but Laura’s notified her boss and extended her unpaid leave. I was half–expecting you to know already, an’ cursing myself for not telling you before I left.” He stands, picking up his and James’s mugs, asking with a gesture whether James wants another. “You can tell Lizzie Laura has a job out there. I don’t mind. And once people see I’m not upset, they’ll lose interest.” 

James isn’t so sure, but he keeps his own counsel. “No more coffee for me. I’ll need to be on my way soon.”

Robbie nods. “Yeah, don’t keep your dad waiting. Thanks for coming round this evening.”

As if anything short of an emergency would have kept him away. “Oh.” He digs in his pocket, producing his keys, and starts to detach Robbie’s key from the ring. “Should give you this back.”

But Robbie shakes his head. “Nah. Hang onto it. Never know when you having a spare might come in handy. An’ listen, just let yourself in any time you come over, yeah? You don’t have to stand on ceremony.”

Robbie yawns noisily as he walks James to the door. “Jetlag,” he mutters in disgust. “I’m seein’ Moody at ten, by the way. Coffee after, if you’re not on a case?”

“I’d like that.” He reaches out to pat Robbie’s upper arm. “Sleep well. It’s good to have you back.”

* * *


	2. Resettlement

Word’s got out about Laura by the time James gets into the office the next morning. He knows because Lizzie’s first question is whether Robbie is okay. He assures her that the man is indeed perfectly all right, and adds that she can ask him herself later.

Is Robbie all right? He’s still no more certain than he was when he left the man’s house last night. Despite Robbie’s surprising degree of openness about what’s going on with Laura, he didn’t say much about himself. Yes, he said he’s okay, and he looked James in the eye, but how credible is that? If he and Laura are going through some sort of trial separation, after two years of what’s appeared to James to be a strong relationship in which Robbie’s been very happy, how could he not be hurt by it? 

Robbie’s always done a fairly effective job of pretending he’s fine when he’s not really, and it’s worked on almost everyone – except, in the past, James. He’s always been able to see through the facade. Mainly, though, he thinks now, because Robbie’s been willing to let him. Robbie’s trusted him to be aware but to keep interference to a minimum. That trust still seemed evident yesterday evening, but James can’t help the nagging doubt he feels about whether Robbie was just putting on a better pretence than usual.

He gets a text from Robbie a little later. It contains Laura’s phone number in New Zealand, and asks whether James is still free for coffee. He replies in the affirmative, and tries not to spend the intervening time thinking about Robert Lewis. He tells himself it’s because he needs to see for himself that Robbie really is all right, that he’s not desperately missing Laura and regretting coming home, or mourning the loss of their relationship. But he knows very well that’s not the only reason.

Shortly before half past ten, Robbie strolls into the office James now shares with Lizzie again, looking very much better than yesterday: fully awake, for one, and dressed in his best suit and actually looking younger than before he left for New Zealand. He nods at James, but greets Lizzie, returning her enthusiastic welcome with a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for keeping an eye on this one for me,” Robbie tells her, with another nod at James.

“Welcome, though I couldn’t do much. He ignores me when I tell him he’s working too hard.”

“Try unplugging his computer next time,” Robbie suggests, then adds, “I know rumours are flying around, so you can hear the real story from me. Laura got offered a brilliant opportunity to do research in forensic medicine. It’s something she’s always wanted to do, an’ I encouraged her to take it. I could’ve stayed there with her, but I had to come back an’ keep an eye on you lot. Knew you wouldn’t be able to manage more than six months without me.” He grins, turning to look at James as he does. 

Well, either he’s maintaining the facade every bit as well as last night, or he’s genuinely fine. James pushes back his chair. “Tell the truth, Robbie. You couldn’t manage without our scintillating company any longer.”

“True enough.” Robbie nods towards the door. “An’ you’re buying. I’m a pensioner, remember.”

James can’t resist. “Ah, yes, I owe you several pensioners’ specials, don’t I?”

* * *

It’s chilly enough that they need coats to sit outside the Buttery. James does indeed buy, and brings Robbie an Eccles cake to remind him that he’s home. And for a while it’s as if nothing at all has changed and they’ve never been apart. Mocking exchanges on each other’s clothing, need for a haircut or use of language. Speculative commentary on the state of football, deliberately taunting from James, while more informed from Robbie. Shared slights on the state of Oxford intelligentsia. 

And then Robbie shifts to the topic of his discussion with Moody. He’s accepted a six–month contract this time. It leaves his options open, he explains. If he and Moody both want to renew at the end and there’s budget for it, fine. If Robbie wants another break – to go and visit Laura, maybe – that’s fine too. 

And of course he’d want to do that. Why wouldn’t he? By then, too, Laura may know whether she intends to stay on in New Zealand. She might well have her licence to practice. What’s to stop them emigrating? They have family there – Laura’s, if not Robbie’s; Mark’s long gone from Australia and now lives in California. There’s Lyn and her partner and young Jack, but Tim’s family is around and James has noticed that, while Robbie’s still as close to Lyn as ever, he doesn’t go up to Manchester as often as he used to.

What is there, really, to keep him in Oxford, or even the UK?

“The other thing is,” Robbie continues, “he wants me to work with Grainger’s team full–time, instead of helping out anywhere I might be needed.”

That makes sense, and James should have expected it. Grainger’s out having hip replacement surgery and is expected to be gone for up to three months. In the week since he left, Moody’s mostly managed the team himself and kept assuring senior officers that a solution was “in hand”. So Robbie’s return was convenient. But it means they won’t be working together, and most likely not working the same shifts. And they won’t be sharing an office, either.

“Not that you need me anyway. You never did,” Robbie adds as he chews his bun. 

_Of course I did_ , James would like to say, but they don’t do that, do they? And before he can decide what to say, his phone rings. It’s Lizzie with a callout. Another suspected murder, and he’s back on the job with barely time to finish his coffee. And certainly no time to arrange to see Robbie again.

* * *

He phones Laura later that night; at one in the morning, to be specific, when his father’s finally settled and comfortable in bed. It’s early afternoon of the following day in Auckland, and she’s in her lab, she explains. She’s happy to hear from him, and sounds cheerful, if occasionally sardonic – every bit the Laura he remembers.

“Did Robbie even tell you I wasn’t coming back?” she asks a few minutes into the call. His hesitation is answer enough. “For heaven’s sake! Though why am I surprised?” She sighs audibly. “Men. Actually, I’d emphasise Northern men, though I suspect you’d be no better.”

“So kind of you,” he comments, dry as dust, and she laughs.

“You really don’t need to worry about us – either of us, I hope,” she adds. “There was no blazing row. Neither of us stormed off or anything like that. We had a discussion, like two sensible adults. It’s not ideal, being separated by over eleven thousand miles, but it’s what works for both of us right now.”

Which makes the state of Robbie and Laura’s relationship even less clear. The most obvious interpretation of what Laura’s said is that they are still a couple, yet Robbie’d suggested they were “taking a break”, whatever that means. Do they even agree on what the state of their relationship is?

She changes the subject, asking after his father and then referencing some of the recent research around strokes and dementia, assuring him that it’s entirely possible that his father still, in some small way, recognises that he’s there. He hadn’t thought he needed the reassurance, but it helps. 

“Don’t forget to look after yourself,” Laura tells him, kindness underlying the strength of her admonition. “I know you too well, James Hathaway. Too busy working and taking care of everyone else, including Robbie. I don’t want to hear that you’ve run yourself into the ground.”

It’s unlikely, he assures her, but he promises anyway and ends the call, feeling no more reassured on the subject of Robbie’s well–being – or Laura’s, which means nearly as much to him.

* * *

He sees precisely nothing of Robbie over the next few days. His team’s new case is nasty and involves a lot of potential evidence and apparent leads to be tracked down, most of which end up going nowhere. He and Lizzie put in long hours again, though he makes a point of sending her home by ten every evening – even if she doesn’t have Tony to go home to. And there’s another ambivalent relationship, of course. Lizzie insists that she’s happy, that she’s enjoying being single yet not single, but can that really be true? 

But then, what does he know? Of the three of them – Robbie, Lizzie and himself – he’s the only one who’s never had a long–term relationship. _Or any kind of committed relationship_ , he has to acknowledge. Coping well with separation doesn’t have to equate to lack of love or happiness. 

Not his business, Lizzie’s marriage. Just as the state of Robbie’s relationship isn’t his business, but he can’t stop himself wondering and worrying, all the same.

On the fourth day, he pieces some apparently unconnected facts together and arrives at a conclusion. Half an hour later, they make an arrest, and find the murder weapon buried under the perpetrator’s favourite aspidistra.

He’s barely started on the CPS paperwork when his phone beeps, signalling a text. _Nice work, as usual. Just don’t let it go to your head. Dinner at mine, 7. Don’t be late._.

His heart leaps, and he forces himself to put the phone down and not reply immediately. Ridiculous. It’s only dinner at Robbie’s. How many times has he been there for meals over the past couple of years? Yet it feels different, without Laura – which is not the way he should be thinking. Laura’s important to him too, both for her own sake and for what she’s done for Robbie.

But he’s missed those evenings when it was just him and Robbie, having a natter over a takeaway and a couple of beers, mocking crap telly or exaggeratedly displaying lack of interest in whatever football match Robbie wanted to watch. Is it really disloyal to Laura that he feels that way?

* * *

“Was hoping you wouldn’t say no,” Robbie comments over dinner. “I know you’ll want to go and see your dad now the investigation is winding down.”

“Let me guess,” James says with a crooked smile. “Laura’s given you instructions to make sure I eat properly?”

“Don’t need Laura to tell me that.” He slides the salad bowl over to James, offering second helpings. “It’s not that – though you do need to eat properly. It’s this place.” He gestures around, pulling a face. “I like the house, don’t get me wrong. Wouldn’t have bought it otherwise – well, _we_ wouldn’t. But rattling around here on me own... Doesn’t feel right. Starting to wonder about just letting the place an’ getting a small flat again.”

Letting the house – for how long? Until Laura comes back, or until they decide whether they really are splitting up? Has he talked to Laura about this?

“That’d be a shame.” He stops himself before he says anything about how the two of them made it a home, full of their favourite things and such a welcoming place. For all James knows, it’s the absence of Laura rather than the size of the house that makes it feel empty to Robbie right now. “It’s your decision, of course. But you’d need to be very careful who you accepted as tenants.”

Robbie nods. “I know. Laura’s concerned about that too, though she says it’s up to me. Be different if we’d actually decided to sell.” He drums his fingers on the table. “Don’t suppose you’d... No,” he adds almost immediately. “You’ve got your new place, an’ I’m sure you prefer your privacy.”

Is he actually asking...? “Were you suggesting that I might move in – as a lodger?”

“Not a lodger – a mate,” Robbie counters. “It’s okay, it was just a thought.”

And, for the first time, there’s a flash of something in Robbie’s expression that suggests he’s really not as all right as he pretends. That he’d prefer to stay here, but doesn’t want to be alone.

That he misses Laura more than he’s willing to admit.

“I’m flattered that you’d ask,” James says, deliberately casual. “Putting yourself at risk of chanting monks and bloody Shakespeare at all hours of the day or night? If you really would like to have me here, I’d be happy to. I’m barely in my own place as it is – it’s little more than somewhere to lay my head.” Not that he does that too often there anyway – at least, not in his bed. “I might not be able to be here all that much either.”

Robbie nods. “I know that. Be nice to know someone else lives here, that’s all. If you’re sure?”

“I’ll give my landlord notice tomorrow.” His tenancy agreement requires a month’s notice on either side, though if it helps Robbie he’ll move in sooner than that. His furniture can go into storage, or into one of the less–used rooms in this house if Robbie agrees; it’s not important either way. The books and photographs... well, there’s space in the spare bedroom, and perhaps keeping them there, rather than scattered all over his desk and couch, will stop his obsession with trying to discover answers to questions he should have asked years ago.

The press of a hand on his shoulder, as Robbie gets up to start clearing the table, is enough to confirm that he’s done the right thing.

* * *

Two weeks later, it feels normal to drive to Robbie’s house every day after work, and when he’s not in the middle of an investigation he’s actually getting into the habit of leaving work at a more reasonable time. Well, reasonable by his estimation; Robbie still says he’s working too hard. Pots and kettles, James counters; Robbie himself is putting in long hours managing Grainger’s team and also consulting with other teams when they request his advice.

It’s a different kind of normal. As he’d guessed, Robbie no longer has a desk in James’s office. Because he’s on a different floor at the nick, they rarely run into each other at work, and shared coffee or lunchbreaks aren’t really an option when they don’t have the excuse of discussing an ongoing investigation. They spend a couple of hours together most evenings, though, before James goes to sit with his father, and they usually have breakfast together.

Laura’s a constant presence, even with her absence; her influence is everywhere in the house, of course, and Robbie talks to her a couple of times a week. The first time James came home and found him on the phone, he backed out of the kitchen immediately, ignoring Robbie’s gestures to him to stay where he was. After that, Robbie made clear that James didn’t need to leave, and since then he’s spoken to Laura himself a couple of times. She’s loving the job, that’s obvious, though it’s also obvious that she misses Robbie – and James himself. And James, much as he’s liking the time alone with Robbie, misses her sharp humour and pointed advice as much as her caring friendship.

“Robbie’s asked for two weeks over New Year so he can come out here,” she tells him the second time Robbie hands the phone over to him. “Why don’t you come with him? With all the extra hours you’ve been working, you’re due the time.”

“You wouldn’t want me intruding,” he says immediately, but she laughs.

“Don’t be ridiculous, James Hathaway. Since when have you ever been an intrusion? I’ve spent more time over the past ten years with you and Robbie together than I have with Robbie alone. And before you say a word, I’ve always liked having you around. It would be really good to see you.”

“Do it,” is Robbie’s instant response when James tells him what Laura suggested. No hesitation, and the pleasure in his lit–up eyes leaves no doubt in James’s mind that it will be the right thing to do.

“I will. Depending on how my father is, of course.” That caveat has to be there. He can’t leave if his father’s still desperately clinging to life. 

“Yeah, course.” Robbie pats his back and goes to check something in the oven that’s emitting delicious scents of roasting meat and potatoes.

Later, since he doesn’t have to leave for an hour or so, they have coffee in the living–room, something they haven’t had a chance to do since he moved in. James is about to take what’s become his usual armchair, but Robbie places James’s mug on the coffee–table in front of the couch.

Hardly a subtle hint, that. James lowers himself to the sofa, next to Robbie, and lets his long legs splay out to the side of the coffee–table. He’s missed sitting with Robbie like this. “So, racking up those frequent–flyer miles, Robert?”

Robbie shifts next to him, and their shoulders brush. “What’s that all about, then? Calling me Robert? Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

James reaches for his coffee. “Taking the piss, of course. What would you expect?”

“Know that, thanks. But you don’t only do it to wind me up.” 

“True.” James plays with his mug. It started as a wind–up, of course, to reinforce some of what Robbie refers to as his smartarse remarks. But he likes the sound of the full name, and also likes the fact that he’s the only person to use it. “You used to call me Jim.”

“Ah. Fair enough, I s’pose. Long as you’re not bein’ mean.” Robbie bumps his shoulder against James’s.

And of course the genuine, straightforward man who is Robbie Lewis probably can’t imagine that James could be mean. How much he’s hidden from Robbie over the years – and still is hiding. How he’s been behaving to Nell since their father’s diagnosis, for one thing.

“Not to you,” he murmurs, then reaches for the TV remote. “Some crap telly, for old times’ sake?”

“Course.” But he doesn’t even need the sidelong glance Robbie gives him to know that he’s only escaping the conversation because Robbie’s letting him.

* * *

October turns to a blustery November, and with it a spate of serious crimes. James is next in line when a body’s found in the canal, and he’s deep into the investigation when Moody assigns Robbie’s team a series of robberies that have turned violent, leaving an elderly couple in a serious condition in hospital. Despite living in the same house, they’re ships that pass in the night; James goes straight from late nights at the station to the care home, and doesn’t bother with breakfast before leaving for work in the morning. He and Robbie exchange the occasional text, and a couple of times try to fit in a pint, but on both attempts one of them has to cancel. 

On the fourth day of the murder investigation, Lizzie stumbles across a piece of information which, once they piece it together with interview records and documents on file, and James remembers a shred of conversation, leads them to a suspect. The man tries to run, but is no match for Lizzie, and while she’s making the arrest James pokes around the man’s flat, where he finds more evidence conclusively linking him to the murder. _Good result_ , he thinks, and not for the first time misses Jean Innocent.

He and Lizzie go to the White Horse for a celebratory drink, and James texts Robbie to ask whether he’s free to join them. There’s no answer, which most likely means Robbie’s up to his neck in his own investigation. Still, there’s a good chance they’ll have an hour or two at home this evening before James has to go out.

Until his mobile rings, and he sees the number is the care home. What the nurse tells him isn’t unexpected, but it’s a punch to the gut, all the same. His dad’s not expected to live through the night.

* * *

It’s after midnight, and he and Nell have been sitting by the bed for more than seven hours. Their father’s alive, but won’t last much longer. His breathing’s rattling and at times broken, and he’s not even reacting to having his hand held now. 

James has been pacing for the last couple of minutes, stiff from sitting. Nell touches his arm. “Go and have a cigarette.” He shakes his head; it’s not fair to leave her, and what if his dad dies while he’s gone? She wraps her fingers around his wrist, reassuring. “There’s time.”

“You should go–”

“I had a break earlier. Go on.”

After a moment, he nods, a jerky gesture, and strides from the room. Once outside in the darkened, empty hall, he pauses and takes a couple of steadying breaths. It’s only then that he notices the hallway isn’t empty.

Sitting on a chair a short distance from the door of his father’s room is Robbie Lewis, still in his suit, a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. 

“How–?”

Robbie stands and comes over. “Shouldn’t need to ask. How is he?”

James shrugs. “Barely holding on. It won’t be long.”

Robbie nods. “How are you? And Nell?”

He looks down at the floor again, struggling for words. But then Robbie’s hand is at his back and he’s being guided along the hall. “Came out for a fag, did you?” Robbie’s tone is blessedly normal, not a sign of pity or comfort in it – how does the man always seem to know what James needs? And as they walk, and while James smokes outside, Robbie talks casually about his investigation, some new leads he’s following up and how Grainger’s sergeant isn’t a patch on Robbie’s last bagman. James doesn’t have to contribute at all. He stands, staring ahead at nothing, inhaling the acrid smoke and listening to Robbie Lewis’s beautiful voice washing over him.

All too soon, the cigarette’s down to the butt and he needs to go back. Robbie turns to re–enter the building with him, again with a hand lightly placed against James’s back.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” he says as they climb the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be right outside if there’s anything I can do.”

James has to swallow the lump that’s appeared out of nowhere. “I won’t be... I mean, after he dies, I’ll need to sort some things, and make sure Nell’s all right.”

“Course you do.” They’re almost at the room; Robbie’s hand slides to James’s arm, to make him pause. “You bring Nell back with you if it’d help. The spare bedroom’s made up. She shouldn’t be on her own.”

_The spare bedroom_. For a moment, James thinks Robbie’s talking about the room he’s using, until his brain clues in that it’s the other bedroom, the smaller one at the back of the house. “Thank you. I...” He shakes his head. So much to thank this man for, and his words are deserting him.

“Go on with you, now.” Fingers squeeze his upper arm briefly, and then he’s walking back into the room again, where Nell sits silently by their father’s bed. Waiting.

* * *


	3. Revision

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long delay! Hope readers are still interested.
> 
> HUGE appreciation and thanks to Owlbsurfinbird, without whom I would still be tearing my hair over this and subsequent chapters.
> 
> * * *

Philip Hathaway takes his last breath shortly after one in the morning. James and Nell are on opposite sides of the bed, each holding a hand, and James has been reciting poetry from memory, old favourites he’d found in his dad’s house.

James’s silent prayer is interrupted by a sob from Nell, the first time she’s cried through these long, harrowing months. If he was a different person – if she was a different person – he’d feel able to go to her and hold her. It feels too late for them; they’ve never really had that kind of relationship, and there’s too much history between them to try now.

It’s when the nurse comes in, summoned by Nell, that James realises Robbie’s still outside. And somehow, between the nurse and Robbie, the two of them are on their way back to Robbie’s home, encouraged to _get a good night’s sleep and deal with everything in the morning_. Somehow, too, over cocoa and biscuits at the kitchen table, they’re able to talk a little, he and Nell, and at Robbie’s gentle but expectant nod James finds the courage to hug her before they go to bed.

The next few days are taken up with funeral arrangements and dealing with the care home, and too much time spent doing nothing. James would have gone back to work despite Moody’s insistence on him taking the appropriate compassionate leave, but Robbie vetoes it. James suspects that Robbie has also primed Lizzie not to take his calls, as for some reason he keeps getting sent to voicemail.

As the days go past, Robbie continues to be a strong, unobtrusive presence, helping where he sees he’s needed but otherwise staying discreetly in the background. He’s kind to Nell, one of the qualities which James has always envied him. For that, James is more grateful than he can put into words; now that the need to care for their father, the only thing that brought them together, is no longer present, the long years of estrangement have left a gulf too wide to breach. They talk to each other when they need to, cooperate when necessary, but otherwise seem to have little to say to each other.

The funeral’s planned to be a small family service, and yet as James walks in with Nell he recognises Lizzie sitting with Robbie, and Moody and Innocent behind them. In another row are other officers from the nick and one of Laura’s lab assistants. Laura herself phoned that morning, the second time she’d called since his father’s death, and told him she wished she could be there for him. 

And then, the funeral over, life appears to return to normal. James is back at work, and Nell has gone back to her own home, ending the leave of absence she’d taken from her job. And yet it’s not back to normal, because James finds he can’t remember what it’s like not to spend hours reading to his father every evening. Living at Robbie’s while not going to the care home every evening is also a new experience.

He and Robbie aren’t always home at the same time; work takes care of that. And Robbie’s encouraging James to get back in touch with his band again. But when they are at home, it’s too easy to fall back into old, pre–Laura habits, sitting close together on the sofa, elbows and shoulders brushing as they shift and converse.

Long, cosy evenings spent together. Going to the supermarket and dry–cleaners together when their days off coincide. Tidying up the garden together before autumn turns to winter. Taking turns chatting to Laura when she phones.

It’s all starting to feel very domestic. It’s lovely, but he can’t afford to get too used to it. Sooner or later, Laura will come home – the phone conversations he’s heard have assured him of that – and Robbie won’t need him any more.

* * *

“This is nice. Good to get out and get some fresh air. Dunno why we never did it before.”

James and Robbie are out in the Chilterns west of Oxford, following one of the local walking paths that will take them through a few villages – and more than a few pubs – and some of the scenic countryside around. It’s a Sunday in late November, and they have a rare shared weekend off. James privately suspects Robbie talked to Moody to coordinate their off–duty, but he won’t say anything. Let Robbie believe he’s got one over on James.

“Fresh air and a pint or two, you mean,” James points out, since they’re currently heading towards one of the aforementioned pubs for lunch.

Robbie shrugs. “Thirsty work, walking.”

“True.” James smiles, then pats Robbie lightly on the back with the hand not holding his cigarette. “And I agree – this is good. Thanks for talking me into it.”

“Not even you can work all hours all the time.” Robbie gives him a pointed look.

James ignores the dig. “Did you go walking with Laura? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Course not. And sometimes. More in New Zealand than here, but then we had the time. Some amazing places to see there. We drove up to the north of the island and did part of the Coromandel Coastal Walk. Could go there while we’re over in January. Or we could go canoeing on the Whanganui River.”

“I know who’d be doing most of the paddling,” James comments dryly, though he knows it’s something he’d enjoy. “Where is your canoe, anyway?”

“Too cold for canoeing in Oxford, man! Wait until next summer. We’ll be rowing up and down the Isis every weekend.” Of course, come summer Laura will still be in New Zealand, so Robbie will still need James to keep him company.

“Nell sends her regards, by the way. I meant to say.” They’ve been emailing occasionally, he and Nell. Nothing of any great depth, just an unspoken understanding that, now there’s only the two of them, they shouldn’t fall out of contact entirely. She writes about her garden, and about her job as a customer relations manager – fixing other people’s mistakes, she calls it. And James writes about some of Lizzie’s more amusing traits, mostly, since he can’t talk about his job and won’t talk about himself. Neither of them talks about their father, or their mother or their shared childhood.

“That’s nice. How is she?”

“Fine.” He searches about for something to add, but there isn’t, really. How different from Robbie, who always has anecdotes about Lyn and little Jack after he’s talked to his daughter. He’s been hearing about Lyn – far less so about Mark – as long as he’s known Robbie.

Which reminds him of something he’s regretted and felt guilty about for a while.

He pauses on the path, turning to face Robbie, who also stops walking. “I should have told you long ago about my family. And it was disrespectful to our friendship to tell Laura first.”

Robbie waves a hand in dismissal. “ ‘S all right. I’ve always known you didn’t like to talk about your family. You don’t have to tell me things, y’know.” That’s Robbie: probably the most forgiving man he knows.

“Still, I should have.”

Robbie just gives him a casual, _It’s not important_ shrug. “I’m glad you’re staying in touch with her. You’re her only family now, after all.” 

Which probably matters to Nell, even if it doesn’t to James. Nicely subtle of Robbie, of course, and that’s another of his traits: his ability to point out kindly things James should have recognised for himself.

Robbie points out the pub that’s appeared now they’ve rounded a bend in the road, and the conversation shifts to beer and food, which James knows is deliberate. Robbie never pushes too hard, except when it’s the right thing to do. There are times he’s wondered whether Robbie remembers what James let slip about miserable childhoods in a moment when his defences were down. And then there are other times when he doesn’t wonder at all, because this is Robbie Lewis and there is nothing that man misses.

It doesn’t matter, though, because James has finally understood that there’s no–one with whom his secrets are safer.

* * *

“Since we’re actually managing to talk to each other,” Robbie comments with amused self–deprecation as they stroll through fallen leaves next to a stream, “there’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Only one thing?” James enquires in the smart–arsed manner he knows Robbie will expect.

“What do you think?” Robbie nudges James’s arm with his elbow. “Mind, Laura would be impressed with us today. Always says she doesn’t know how we manage to spend hours together an’ never actually communicate.”

“That does rather depend on how one defines communicating.” James glances sideways at Robbie, raising an eyebrow. “But you have me on tenterhooks. What specific fact haven’t you told me?”

Robbie walks on for several paces, James next to him, before he replies. “Before I came home, Laura and I agreed we’re both free to find someone else, if we want.”

The calm statement hits James like a punch to the gut. It’s a couple of moments before he can speak. “I thought you said you haven’t split up?” It doesn’t sound as if they have, from the phone conversations he’s been witness to, and from Robbie’s frequent casual, affectionate mentions of Laura. She might be physically absent, but she’s a constant presence in every other way. He’s been quietly certain that the two of them are still fully committed to each other, regardless of whether Laura stays on in New Zealand beyond her current contract. Even though the prospect of her permanent absence from Robbie’s life opens the possibility that Robbie might welcome James’s continued company, _he_ would miss Laura very much.

“Not as such. More like a trial separation.” And Robbie sounds strangely unconcerned.

“I don’t understand,” James begins before his brain catches up with his mouth and he asks himself whether he has any right to be asking questions here. But Robbie nods encouragingly, so he continues. “You two – not that I’m any kind of expert on relationships, but you seemed so... solid.” And he knows Robbie misses Laura, and that he still loves her; even if Robbie hadn’t said so himself, he’s been witness to Robbie’s side of some of the phone calls.

Robbie nods. “Got me own theories on that, which I’m not ready to share with Megabrain Hathaway right this minute. But, yeah, we were. An’ we may be again. That’s not decided yet. Depends on what each of us wants.”

His head’s spinning. In one breath, Robbie’s talking about potentially finding someone else, and in another saying that he and Laura could well get back together. They’re a solid couple, but they’re not. None of it makes any sense, and it’s unsettling in a way he wouldn’t have believed possible. Even though he’s been living with the reality of Robbie temporarily separated from Laura for the past six weeks, he’s never actually believed, until today, that their relationship might be over. 

“So... are you?” he asks.

“Not a mind–reader, man. Am I what?”

“Looking for someone else.”

Robbie shrugs. “Not looking, as such. There’s only one circumstance where I’d even consider it.” He stops walking, turning to face James. “Feels like that bothers you.” 

James dips his head. “It’s not my place to be bothered by it.” One circumstance? What? If Laura found someone else?

“Don’t be daft. You were quick enough to say what you thought before. An’ you were right, regardless of how I reacted.”

He pauses, debating, then says, meeting Robbie’s gaze, “All right. Yes, it bothers me – but only because I want to see you happy, and while you were with Laura you were happier than I’d ever seen you before. And, actually, I find I also want Laura to be happy.” 

Robbie nods. “Fair enough. And, for what it’s worth, we both want you to be happy, too. So how about we talk about your love–life, then?”

James starts walking on, in long strides that mean Robbie has to jog to catch up. “Non–existent. And I’m perfectly content with the situation, thank you.” And he is, mostly. Happier now than he’s been for a long time.

“Fair enough, if you say so.” Robbie’s tone is suspiciously mild, and James knows very well his friend doesn’t believe a word of it. The truth, of course, is far from what he’s certain Robbie believes about him, and he’s got no intention of enlightening his friend. Robbie will drop the subject, at least for now, which is all James cares about.

* * *

The next ten days or so are insanely busy; they both have new investigations requiring long, intense hours, and it seems they’re barely at home at the same time, even to sleep. Then both cases break within a day or two of each other. James’s team makes three arrests, while the suspect in Robbie’s case commits suicide rather than be arrested. 

Robbie finds James in his office shortly after seven the evening after the suicide; James is checking the evidence record compiled by one of the DCs before adding it to the CPS file. He already knows he’s going to have to send it back to be redone. 

“Did you stick your finger in the socket?” Robbie leans against the doorway, a too–amused grin on his face.

“What?” James glances up, only mildly irritated at the interruption.

“Your hair’s standing on end.”

With a sigh, James rakes his hand through his hair, smoothing it down. “Blame Stephens. I’ll be having a word with Maddox tomorrow about his training.”

Robbie strolls over and glances down at the file. It doesn’t take long for him to shake his head. “DCs these days. Just can’t get the staff.” He smirks. “Would never’ve happened in my day.”

“Nor mine,” James says grimly.

“Come on.” Robbie jerks his head towards the door. “It’s snowing outside. Settling fast, too. I fancy a big bowl of pasta and a bottle of wine in front of a roaring fire.”

“You’re on.” James stretches and pushes his chair back. The file can wait. “I’ll make the pasta if you see to the fire.”

A couple of hours later, they’re slumped together on the sofa, satisfyingly replete, and Robbie’s glued to highlights of an England–Australia Test match on the TV. James isn’t even pretending interest in the cricket, instead just enjoying the fact that Robbie’s relaxed against him so that they’re pressed together from shoulder to hip. He’s managed to push away the nagging feeling of guilt that this is a closeness that isn’t his to enjoy. Robbie’s never seen the physical closeness they’ve had over the years as anything other than part of their friendship, and that’s all this is.

Robbie turns towards James, looking unimpressed, as the match ends with – unsurprisingly – Australia the victors. “Bloody useless shower. Call themselves an England team? Could do better meself.”

James raises an eyebrow, deliberately sceptical. This is one of the many sides of Robbie he loves: grumpy and complaining at one of his favourite teams.

“I could!” Robbie insists. “Did I ever tell you about the time I went undercover as a cricketer?”

“The way Laura tells it, you went undercover as a porter.” James smirks.

Robbie grunts. “I’ll be havin’ words with her in the morning. Had to be a porter. Was the only way Morse could get me onto the team. An’ even if I say so meself, I wasn’t half bad. Made a bloody good catch – which Morse missed ‘cause he’d fallen asleep. Would’ve done a decent job at bat too, except the posh idiot at the other end wouldn’t listen to me an’ made a bad call. I got caught out.” A supremely disgruntled expression, of the sort reserved only for the most officious of Oxford bureaucrats, crosses Robbie’s face, before he grins. “Still got a pretty good swing. Have to show you some time.”

Turned sideways on the sofa, Robbie mimes holding a bat and swings his hands sharply in James’s direction. He’s a little over–enthusiastic, and James has to reach out and grip Robbie’s fists to prevent them colliding with James’s jaw.

One of Robbie’s hands falls away, leaving James’s hand wrapped around the other, and for a second or so they’re sitting staring at each other. And then Robbie curls his fingers around James’s hand, and abruptly it feels as if all the air’s been sucked out of the room. James’s heart skips a beat – skips several beats – and all he can do is look at Robbie, unable to speak.

Then Robbie moves, bringing his free hand up to cup the back of James’s head, the intent in his expression clear. It’s what James has wanted for years, in spite of what he understands about himself, and, unbelievably, it’s about to happen. Robbie’s face comes closer as he guides James in for a kiss. 

It can’t happen. James pulls away, breaking Robbie’s hold on him, and shakes his head. “No.”

Robbie’s face is the picture of confusion. “What’s wrong, canny lad? I’m not blind, I know you want this.”

“We can’t.” James shifts, sliding along the sofa away from Robbie, freeing his hand from Robbie’s grasp as he does. “You and Laura.”

Robbie reaches his hand out towards him again. “James, Laura and I–”

“No.” James interrupts, speaking over Robbie. “Do you have any idea how inconsistent you’ve been about your relationship with her? You’re taking a break, but you might still stay together. You’re both free to look for someone else, but you still speak to her _every single day_ and you tell her you love her. Not to mention that Laura told me you haven’t split up.”

Which is bloody confusing, to say the least, but at the same time it seems clear enough that this time apart is showing Robbie – and Laura, he suspects – what he really wants. And what he really wants is Laura. This, nearly kissing James, means nothing. A drunken fumble, or just loneliness, needing to be close to someone. And Robbie will never know how hard it was for James – how hard it still is – to prevent the kiss.

If Robbie had the faintest idea how James feels about him, he’d never have done it. The last thing Robbie Lewis is capable of is unkindness.

“James.” Undaunted, Robbie grips his hand, his thumb stroking back and forth. “Everything I’ve told you about Laura and me is true. She and I discussed – I just haven’t told you everything yet, that’s all. I was going to, when... well, when the time felt right. When we’re with Laura in January, you’ll see–” James tries to interrupt, but Robbie continues. “What I told you before, that there’s one circumstance I’d consider...” He pauses, his expression making his meaning completely clear.

 _Him?_ Robbie would choose him over Laura? Now that’s just... no, he can’t have understood correctly. He shakes his head, frowning in confusion, though he can’t bring himself to pull his hand away this time. Even if he can’t allow himself to accept a kiss, he’s surely not hurting anyone, or trespassing where he shouldn’t, by taking this contact. “This isn’t making any sense, Robbie. And I’m not sure I should be here at all–”

“Yeah, you should. Just listen, okay? I didn’t mean this to happen tonight, but since it has, you need to know. You know me, man. I wouldn’t betray Laura, an’ I wouldn’t lie to you, either. Thing is, when we were out there, after a while we both realised there was something missing. That’s partly why she’s still there an’ I’m here.”

“Missing? No.” That just doesn’t sound convincing, though Robbie is right when he says James knows he wouldn’t lie. “You two have been so right for each other–”

“That you saw, yeah. Not when we were out there. Like I said, something missing. Some _one_ missing. You.” 

“Robbie, that’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. Think about it.” James knows that expression he’s seeing on Robbie’s face; it’s the one where he’s figured out every detail of the case against someone, with no doubts whatsoever. Even if he might not actually be right. “For the past ten years, other than a week or so here and there when one of us was on holiday, we’ve been together every day. Sometimes all day, sometimes just for a drink or a coffee – but we’ve spent time together. In New Zealand, you weren’t there. I missed you. And just so we’re clear about it, Laura missed you too. Wasn’t just that,” Robbie continues before James can interrupt. “Laura an’ I weren’t the same without you.”

Robbie can’t really be saying he wants James more than he wants Laura?

No matter how much James wants to accept what Robbie is saying, he knows he can’t. First, because no matter what Robbie’s saying now, he and Laura are good together, and as soon as Laura comes home Robbie will realise that. And second, because – even if he could believe that Robbie really wants what he’s suggesting – James can’t give him what he’s asking for.

“Unfamiliar surroundings, not enough to do, Laura’s family and not yours... it’s understandable that things didn’t work out as well as you’d hoped.”

“It isn’t just that, man. Remember the last investigation we worked on, before Laura and I went away? The knot theory?”

“You mean the theory of circles embedded in three–dimensional Euclidean space?” Perhaps the pedantry will remind Robbie of the things that irritate him about James.

But Robbie only grins, as if the interjection amuses him. “That’s the one. Specifically, the Borromean knot–”

“Borromean _ring_ , more typically.” Maybe reminding Robbie of his more unlikeable traits will stop this foolishness in its tracks.

“Ring, knot, same difference. Point is, it’s about two parts that fall apart unless the third is there to bind them all together. That’s you. It’s always been you. Laura an’ I would never have got together in the first place without you. Wasn’t until we were halfway around the world without you that I realised how important you’ve been all along – to me, and to both of us. Thought the same went for you, to be honest.” 

The confusion in Robbie’s eyes – and surely it should be James who’s feeling confused? – almost breaks James’s resolve, but he can’t.

James squeezes Robbie’s hand, then makes himself gently free his own. “I’m... touched, Robbie.” His jaw twitches, and he has to clear his throat. “But, even if you’re right, and I’m not convinced you are, then all you need is my friendship, which you’ve always had and always will for as long as you want it.”

“I know that. But, see, the other thing about being away from you is that I realised it’s not just friendship, far as I’m concerned. Now, if you want to tell me you don’t feel the same...?”

Of course he can’t, though he never imagined that Robbie’s feelings matched his own, and in other circumstances he’d be happier than even he could find words to express. If it weren’t for Laura, he’d tell Robbie so. But that’s not what matters. “What I feel isn’t the point, Robbie. You and Laura are.”

“And you won’t come between me and her,” Robbie finishes. “You’re not. Told you, Laura an’ I’ve already settled where we stand. But, look, I don’t want to try to persuade you into anything here an’ now, especially when you only have half the information _and_ you keep ignoring me sayin’ it’s not just me who missed you.” At James’s baffled look, he adds, “Come on, man – d’you really think I’d try it on with you behind Laura’s back? I wouldn’t do that to her or you. You should know that.” His voice is laced with a hint of frustration now – not because James isn’t agreeing to what Robbie wants, he’s certain, but because Robbie thinks he doubted him.

“Then I don’t understand–”

Robbie holds up a hand. “I know. It’s my fault – I shouldn’t have done anything before you knew exactly what’s what. An’ that’s how we meant it to be, but... well.” He pulls a face, then reaches out and grips James’s hand again, squeezing briefly before letting go. “That happened.” 

James nods. That much he can understand: how something unexpected – a touch, a word, a smile – can drive away all sense, reason and best–laid plans. 

His head’s still reeling at the thought that Robbie Lewis almost kissed him. Would have, if he hadn’t stopped the man. That Robbie told him he feels more than friendship for him.

If Robbie had never got together with Laura in the first place. If this had happened four years ago, when Robbie’d said – insisted – that he and Laura were never going anywhere. Yet even then it wouldn’t be straightforward, would it? _You’ve not been honest with him either, James Hathaway, have you?_

He can’t. Not now. Not when he’s feeling this raw, the emotions he’s buried for years stripped bare, to himself if not to Robbie. If Robbie’s still persisting with this tomorrow, then he won’t have a choice.

Robbie glances at him again, then yawns and makes an exaggerated effort to push himself to his feet. “Come on. Time we got some sleep. We can talk to Laura in the morning an’ I’ll let her tell you what she told me.”

James allows himself to be led up the stairs, allows Robbie to squeeze his shoulder as they say goodnight on the landing, and allows Robbie to go into his own bedroom without another word. 

But he’s going to have to tell Robbie the truth, and before he says anything to Laura. Even if James were willing to let Robbie leave Laura for him, what good would it do when he’s not capable of giving Robbie what he wants?

* * *


	4. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies again for the unconscionable delay in adding a new chapter! The story is still... evolving... and my wonderful BR, Owlbsurfinbird, is challenging and inspiring me and making this so much more than it would have been. Thank you!
> 
> * * *

It all comes flooding back mere moments after James awakens. He’s alternately hot and cold as the events of the previous evening replay in his head.

Could he have been more ham–fisted in his handling of it all? Yes, it still doesn’t make any sense that Robbie would want any kind of romantic or physical relationship with him, and the issue of Laura’s still one he won’t ignore, but he didn’t have to accuse Robbie of going behind Laura’s back, or doubt his friend’s good intentions.

What he’s going to say this morning, especially if Robbie insists on phoning Laura, James has no idea. If he’s extremely lucky, which he knows he rarely is, Robbie’ll just want to forget the whole thing. No, the man wasn’t drunk, but he might just put it down to being lonely, missing Laura and reaching out to the nearest possible substitute. Though that’s not at all complimentary to Robbie, James acknowledges.

The house is quiet as he makes his way downstairs. Is Robbie still asleep? All he needs is his coat, and he could be out the door and driving away before Robbie even realises he’s up. That might be for the best, even if it is the coward’s way out and he’ll still have to face Robbie sooner or later. Later, preferably.

In the kitchen, there’s a note lying on the table, written in haste in Robbie’s distinctive handwriting. _Got a callout. Talk to Laura, please. See you later, and no avoiding me._

A reprieve, then, one granted by Robbie – or the criminals of Oxford – rather than obtained through his own cowardice. And he’s not phoning Laura, no chance – 

His mobile rings. And, yes, it is Laura.

He stares at the phone, paralysed by indecision. What if he just ignores it? Or he could answer and say he’s busy, no time to talk. But she’ll only ring again. And what the fuck’s Robbie told her, anyway? He’s obviously said something, because she’s calling now, on James’s mobile, when they normally talk to her on the house phone in the evenings...

Fuck this. Get it over with. He presses the white button. “Laura. Hi.” Cautious, giving nothing away.

“I’m not going to bite your head off, you silly sausage!” He can hear Laura’s smile, and imagines her leaning against a lab counter somewhere shaking her head. Why did she have to stay in New Zealand anyway? Not only would this mess never have happened, but... he misses her.

“Erm, sorry?” Professing ignorance until she reveals how much she knows might not be the most sensible approach, but it’s the one he’s most comfortable with.

“Robbie phoned me. Apparently, he was on his way to a callout at the time. I understand that he – in his words, mind you – jumped the gun a bit last night? Is that a fair description?”

She’s waiting for an answer. James groans silently. “Erm... That might depend on one’s perspective.”

He can hear the sympathetic smile in her voice, even through the very Laura–like matter–of–fact tone. “James, don’t imagine this is something I’m unhappy about – or that it’s even a surprise. I’m glad it happened, though I wish he had managed to explain properly to you first.” His eyes widen; she actually does mean it. Robbie was right. “Or that he’d been here this morning to talk to you with me.”

He knows Laura. She’s honest to the point of bluntness most of the time, and rarely lies to spare someone’s feelings – even her own.

“James. Still there?” 

He starts, realising he’s been silent too long. “Yes. Sorry.” 

A soft laugh in his ear. “Bloody Robbie. This would be much easier if he had been here. This really isn’t the sort of conversation to have from half a world away. But, truly, James, believe me: I am _perfectly_ happy for you and Robbie to do whatever you like together. In fact, I want you to. If you do, of course, and while I don’t think Robbie and I are wrong about that, I’m not presuming to know your inclinations.”

James sinks into a chair, struggling to take this all in. Why would Laura possibly...? “But you two haven’t–” 

“Split up? Robbie’s calling it taking a break. Which is as good as any description, I suppose. James, we’re fine. Both of us. Things just weren’t the same once we were out here, away from our usual routines and jobs – and, to be frank, away from you. You know,” she continues, wry humour in her voice, “we both did it, all the time – we’d see something, or be having a conversation, and we’d be waiting for one of your smart–alec remarks. But it’s not just that, James,” she adds, more soberly. “We missed _you_.”

“But that doesn’t mean you just give up on each other!” James protests. “And even if you did need a break, as Robert puts it, as soon as you come home–”

“If I come home,” Laura interjects, and there’s the confirmation of what James has suspected all along. “Even if I do, James, I promise you, it’s perfectly okay with me if you and Robbie want to start a relationship. As long as you want to, of course.” 

“But–” Why would that _not_ bother her? It makes no sense at all. Laura’s been in love with Robbie for years – for longer than Robbie himself believes, James suspects.

“But nothing, James Hathaway. Since you clearly need to hear it, I told Robbie to go back home and snog the living daylights out of you.”

James jerks and almost falls off the chair. “ _What?_ ”

“You heard me.” And that’s definitely amusement in Laura’s voice. There’s no bitterness or anger or resignation. Amusement – how the hell can she be finding this funny? Yet she’s been matter–of–fact – bracingly so – and indulging in humour throughout this conversation. “James, I’m going to tell you what I told Robbie an hour ago. You two have to talk to each other. Properly – none of your long silences and half–arsed conversations. Talk.”

“What, break the habit of a lifetime?” James quips, a pathetic attempt to hide his utter bewilderment from Laura.

She’s having none of it. “Yes. And I’ll expect to hear tomorrow that you’ve done just that.”

“He’s just starting a new investigation,” James protests. “I might not even see him–”

Laura tuts loudly. “Excuses, excuses. I mean it, James. Talk.”

She’s right, of course, and even without her insistence he would have tried to talk to Robbie about this – eventually. “Yes, Doctor.”

“At least one of you knows who’s boss.” James closes his eyes at the fond humour in her voice, letting it resonate in his ear. 

“I miss you.” The words escape before he’s had time to think about it.

There’s a pause, and then Laura says, faltering slightly, “Miss you too, James Hathaway. Never mind Robbie, I’d quite like to kiss you myself, if I could.” Before he can gasp out a stunned _What?_ in response, she’s saying, “Now, I need to go, and you need to get to work. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

He’s barely able to get a quick goodbye out before she disconnects. 

Instead of getting breakfast or leaving for work, he just sits at the table, oblivious to time passing. In less than a dozen hours, reality seems to have turned upside down. Though, bizarre and unbelievable as it all obviously is, James thinks he now understands what’s happening.

Robbie Lewis, lifelong heterosexual and in love with Laura Hobson, almost kissed him and apparently it wasn’t an impulsive mistake.

Laura Hobson, who’s been in love with Robbie Lewis almost as long as James has known her, has been encouraging Robbie in this insane notion – and apparently wouldn’t be averse to kissing him herself.

They’d both missed him. Robbie described him last night as the link that held the three of them together – the essential third link of the Borromean ring. Is it beyond the realms of possibility that Laura was hinting at making the metaphorical into physical reality: the three of them in a relationship?

Far–fetched and fanciful it might be, but the more he thinks about Laura’s tone of voice when she mentioned kissing him, the more James thinks he’s right. The _three_ of them? Robbie, Laura... and him? It doesn’t feel possible, and yet he can see it. He’s spent many evenings in this house, after all, with the two of them, spent long hours chatting and laughing over a meal and wine, music in the background and, in winter, a cheerful fire in the grate. He’s spent nights in their spare room and joined in breakfast preparations in the morning – or been hugged goodnight by Laura and patted on the back by Robbie on evenings when he’s driven home instead. 

What would it be like? What are Robbie and Laura thinking? James’s gaze swivels to the living–room, just through that archway. Instead of the armchair which became his when the two of them were here, would he continue to sit on the sofa, close to both of them? Perhaps Laura might lie with her head on his lap, and he could stroke her hair. Robbie might let James rest against his shoulder, or kiss him slowly, long and lingering, the way he’s seen Robbie kiss Laura many times.

And would he still sleep in the spare room? But his mind shies away from the implications of that. 

None of this may ever happen. After all, if what’s at the root of this is just a last–ditch effort to save Robbie and Laura’s relationship, why would it? The best thing he could do, if that is the case, is help Robbie to make the sensible decision, rather than encouraging him down a path that he may well come to regret.

Regardless of how he might feel about being wanted purely as a means of preserving Robbie and Laura as a couple, though, there’s another rather large snag in this plan of Robbie’s – or Laura’s, whichever of them actually came up with the idea. And that’s something he does need to tell Robbie, and the sooner the better, before his friend takes any irrevocable steps where Laura’s concerned.

His phone rings, dragging him out of his introspection. Lizzie, wondering where he is. “You’ve got a meeting with Moody in twenty minutes, sir.”

“Yes.” He shoves back his chair, standing quickly and patting his pockets to ensure everything he needs is in place. “Hadn’t forgotten, Maddox. I’m on my way.”

* * *

Mid–afternoon, there’s a text from Robbie. _Did you speak to Laura?_

He’s _not_ doing this here, in the office, with Maddox at the next desk. _Thought you had a new case. Criminals not holding your attention?_

The reply comes faster than he’d thought Robbie could text. _Cheeky sod. Coffee?_

There’s nothing immediately pressing. He could. But... _I’m not discussing this anywhere public._

His phone rings. “I’m only askin’ you out for coffee. Not suggestin’ we solve the world’s problems at the same time,” Robbie says as soon as James answers.

“I don’t remember suggesting that as a priority,” James retorts, ignoring the _asking out_ part of Robbie’s opening gambit. “But, yes, coffee sounds good, as long as control of the conversational agenda is mine.”

“Think I can agree to that. See you at the Buttery, then.” There’s a click, signalling that Robbie’s ended the call. 

When he gets to the Buttery, Robbie’s already at an outside table, bundled up in his anorak, two coffees and pastries on the table. James lowers himself into his chair, long legs sprawling, and sips his coffee. “Case solved already, then?”

Robbie snorts. “Early stages of spadework. Which is what I have DCs and a sergeant for, Inspector – a fact you’d do well to remember.”

“Considering I’ve left Maddox working on our last CPS file, you don’t really have a leg to stand on, _Inspector_.” James smirks as he lights up a cigarette. This is one of the things he’d really missed while Robbie was away: winding each other up over a coffee or drink. And James has been so preoccupied since Robbie’s return that they haven’t really had a chance to get back into the habit.

“Knew you’d learn. Just took longer than it should’ve.” Robbie’s grin is far too smug. 

James jabs Robbie’s arm. “According to Laura, she’s been trying for considerably longer to get you to learn certain skills – notably communication.” He turns his gaze to Robbie, one eyebrow raised. 

“She has, an’ I know for a fact that I’m not her only target.” Robbie’s returning stare is bland. “So you talked to her?”

James draws on his cigarette, then exhales before replying. “I wasn’t exactly given a choice, since somebody apparently told her to phone me.” He taps ash away. “I said not here.”

“I know.” Robbie’s tone is mild, signalling unconcern. “Just wanted to be sure she’d caught you. And, no, I haven’t talked to her since. I did have to do some work today, y’know.”

“I did wonder about that.” James smiles to show he’s mocking. “Your absence was certainly convenient – for you.”

“Can’t help it if I’m at the top of the rota.” He chews a bite of pastry, then adds, “Break–in while a family – including two kiddies under ten – was sleeping. Turned the kitchen and living area of the flat upside down, an’ the bastards painted _GO HOME ARAB SCUM_ all over the place. An’ smeared muck everywhere – you know the kind of muck I mean.”

Faeces. James shudders. “Hate crime.” 

“Yeah, that’s our assumption. Turns out the mother’s had her hijab pulled off a couple of times, including while she was walking the kids to school, an’ some local yobs have been throwing stones at her.” The anger in Robbie’s voice matches what James is feeling.

“Didn’t she report it?”

Robbie sighs. “They didn’t think the police would do anything. Think I’ve convinced them they’re wrong, but who could blame them? The father finally told us – but only because the mother mentioned it first – that he was beaten up last month, and it would’ve happened again but he managed to get away. They only reported this because of the kids – young enough to be bloody petrified, but old enough to understand that it’s because of who they are.”

James nods. “Hope you find the bastards.”

“We’re going all out on this. The Chief Con wants to send a clear message that racist attacks and hate crimes won’t be tolerated. Moody and I are doing a press conference in–” He glances at his watch. “Half an hour. Best get a wriggle on.”

James drains his coffee and pushes back his chair. “Will you be home later?” He’s already describing Robbie and Laura’s house as _home_ , he realises. The sooner he and Robbie get things clear, the better.

“Should be.” Robbie falls into step with him along the Broad. “Got another briefing with the team after the press conference, and then I’ll be heading out – unless something comes up, of course.”

“Of course.” James lays his hand against Robbie’s back. “Break a leg.” He’ll take care of dinner. And no alcohol – they need a clear head for the discussion that needs to take place.

* * *

“You were good on TV.” James glances around at Robbie, who’s just come into the kitchen where James is stirring the paella.

“Thanks. Kept seeing the terrified faces of those kiddies the whole time I was talking. We’ve got uniforms outside the flat tonight, but that’s no solution. We’ve just got to catch the bastards.”

James nods. “If you need extra bodies for anything, I could spare two or three.”

Robbie gets a beer from the fridge, but at James’s frown puts it back and gets a soft drink instead. “Thanks. Might take you up on that. Heard when I went back to the nick, by the way, that some of the neighbours turned up with food and tools and cleaning stuff to help get the place sorted. That’s something. The tossers who did this aren’t remotely representative of people in this town.”

“Mmm.” James transfers the paella to plates, and for a while they’re focused on eating, but he can’t avoid biting the bullet indefinitely. “So. I talked to Laura.”

He has Robbie’s immediate attention; his friend sets down his cutlery and meets James’s gaze directly. He’s glad, and a bit relieved, James suspects, that they’re finally going to discuss it. “Yeah. Look, before you say anything else – I jumped the gun last night, man, an’ I’m sorry about that. I should never have done anything, or even hinted at – well, you know – until I’d talked to you properly. Or Laura and I did.”

James nods. It’s not as if he hasn’t had times himself when events or impulse overruled good intentions. That’s not his concern right now. Dealing with the central issue is. 

He’s had all day to think about how to handle this, and while no approach he’s come up with has felt ideal, he’s settled on the one he’s most comfortable with. Detached, calm, a touch of empathy; the professional copper talking to a member of the public, rather than James talking to his best friend. It’s not ideal; there’s a risk that Robbie could take his detachment badly. Or that, since he’s decided to come right out and put a name to what he thinks is going on, he could be wrong.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong about this, Robbie, but based on what little you’ve both said so far I’m getting the impression that the two of you are suggesting you’re open to a polyamorous arrangement.”

Robbie meets his gaze across the table. “Something like that, yeah. But I can understand if it’s not something you can agree to.” He reaches across the table and covers James’s hand with his, leaving it there for a few moments. “But, whatever happens, I want us to be all right.” He gestures between James and himself. “Yeah, that’s what I’d like, but I know it might not be something you’d be comfortable with – even if you do want it.”

That helps. Yes, while he hasn’t given it much thought among all the other questions and deliberations that have been swirling through his head today, his own values are an issue here, and it’s good to know that Robbie is aware of that. 

James takes a deep breath and stares down at the table. “If you need me in the mix in order to keep your relationship alive, I... can’t help but wonder whether there’s anything sustainable there.” After a moment, he adds, “And if I’ve overstepped again, I’m sorry.”

“No, no,” Robbie says immediately, no sign of offence in his tone. He reaches out to touch James’s hand again, this time reassuring. “It’s a fair question. An’ as for the rest, after all this time and everything you’ve done for me – for us – you’ve got a right to ask the awkward questions. But it’s not like that,” he adds. Pushing his plate away, he stands. “Let’s get more comfortable? We can sort the dishes later.”

James follows Robbie to the living room, sitting next to him on the couch without prompting. “What is it like, then?”

“What I said yesterday. Laura an’ me weren’t right without you. And – much as I’m liking this, having you living here – I still miss Laura. And I think you do too.” That’s true; he’s acknowledged that himself several times since Robbie’s return. “Like I said, it’s always been the three of us, ever since I came back to England. Yeah, Laura and I moved in together when you went away on your long walk, but you just ask Laura: I don’t think a day went past when I didn’t mention you at least once. And it’s true that I came back to work because I was bored, but that’s not the only reason. I came back because it was the only way I’d get to spend time with you.”

That’s probably about the longest speech Robbie’s made to him since James has known the man. He can’t help but be thankful that Robbie kept talking, because he’s lost for words. Yes, he’s not unaware that Robbie considers him a good friend as well as a colleague, and that their working relationship is and has always been rare in its closeness, but this is more than he’s allowed himself to believe Robbie feels for him. Close, in fact, to what he feels for Robbie.

Finally, he says, “I missed you, too. Both of you, And, yes, I still miss Laura. And if the two of you are serious that my presence is somehow the glue that holds you together, that’s honestly not a problem. You’ve always been kind enough to make me welcome here, and I’ve always enjoyed spending time with the two of you. Nothing needs to change there.” He’s an expert at the art of hiding his feelings for Robbie Lewis, after all. No change required.

Robbie bumps shoulders with James, a long–familiar gesture. “Yeah, nothing needs to change, if you don’t want it to. But if it could – and you know now that Laura and I are interested, that we want you to be... well, a partner. Is that something you’d like? For yourself, not just because we’re asking?” 

_Yes._ He wants to say it. Wants it more than he can ever let Robbie see – not just for Robbie, but for Laura too, now that he’s opened his mind to that idea. But – oh, there are always buts. Robbie’s making clear that he and Laura would like James to be... a partner, as he’s put it. But James still isn’t convinced that it’s not for the wrong reasons.

He shifts away from Robbie a little, but angles his body so that he’s facing him instead. “I don’t want to answer that, because – I’m sorry, Robbie, but I’m still not certain that you’re not asking because you think it’s a way to save your relationship with Laura.”

Robbie nods, but he’s smiling. “Can’t blame you for thinking that. We know it’s not, though, because this isn’t new. Keep telling you: you’ve always been part of our lives, ever since I’ve known you. Laura told me, once we finally started talking about this, about you, that she’s often thought I could just as easily have turned to you when I was finally ready to leave Val behind. Remember, she and I started out while you were in Kosovo?”

“Hardly!” James shakes his head. That can’t be true.

Robbie gives him that inspector–to–sergeant smile that always means he’s missing something important. “You’re forgetting one thing I said yesterday. You’re not just a mate, as far as I’m concerned. Took us being halfway around the world from you to realise it, but it’s the truth.” His smile widens and his eyes soften. “Laura texted to tell me what she told you. About her instruction to me. Don’t worry, you’re safe from me advances,” he adds, mouth turning down at the corners. “Just assurin’ you I’m not making any of this up.”

Christ, it’s embarrassing that, in his late thirties, he can still blush like a schoolboy. “I still can’t believe she said that.” Or that Robbie feels that way about him.

Robbie nods. “She did. But, look, none of this means I expect anything from you, man. And if you want to forget any of this was said, I hope it won’t be a problem for you and me.”

There’s an apprehensive note in Robbie’s voice now that hasn’t been there through any of this – and it’s James who’s put it there. Robbie’s taken the risk of being honest about what he feels for James, and what he and Laura would like, and James has only thrown up objections. Robbie’s asked him several times whether he feels the same way, and not only has he not given Robbie an answer, he’s now left Robbie wondering whether, by bringing this up at all, it could have damaged their friendship.

He owes Robbie this, and more. “Of course it won’t be.” He leans forward, closer to Robbie, and lays his hand on Robbie’s forearm. “And... yes, you’re right. It is something I’d... like. But...” His throat closes up, and he swallows.

“But?” There’s nothing but fondness in Robbie’s voice now.

“It’s not...” He looks down at his lap and realises that his other hand is clenched so tightly that the knuckles are white. “I don’t have a problem with the concept. It’s the... practicality that’s an issue. For me.” But he still can’t come right out and say it. They’ve already talked about this so much, Robbie would be completely justified if he were angry that James didn’t say something sooner. A thought strikes him – a digression – and he jumps on it. “This does feel as strange to you as it does to me? As if we’re negotiating something, instead of...” He lifts one shoulder in an awkward shrug. “Relationships aren’t normally like this, are they?”

Robbie just looks at him, his _you don’t really think I’ll fall for that?_ expression so familiar. And James can’t fight it any more – can’t even remember why he’s fighting. 

“Yes, I want what you’re offering.” He hesitates, then reveals what he’s never told anyone else. “But only some of it. I should have told you this last night, and I apologise. Robbie, before we go any further, you need to know that I don’t want sex – with you, or with anyone.”

* * *


	5. Realignment

Before Robbie has a chance to react, James is up and off the couch. “I need a cigarette.”

He does, though that doesn’t mean he’s not trying to escape the fallout. 

Fruitless, of course, as he should have known. Did know. He’s only just lit up when Robbie comes to stand next to him on the patio. For a couple of minutes, they contemplate the clear, starry sky in silence, their breath and James’s cigarette smoke white in the crisp, near–freezing air.

And then Robbie speaks, reassuring as if he were speaking to a nervous witness. “You really think I don’t know you after ten years? Suspected it for ages.”

James almost drops his cigarette. He stares at Robbie, mouth open, but the words won’t come.

“Asexual, right?” The word James just wasn’t able to say falls into the space between them. “ But you’re not... what’s the word? Ascetic?” Robbie continues. “I think you want to be loved. Kissed, cuddled an’ all that – you’re just not interested in sex. That’s what I think, anyway.”

He’s right. Of course he is, and why should James have imagined that Robbie could possibly not know this about him? The man’s always seemed to know James better than James knows himself.

“Yes, I’m asexual.” It’s the first time he’s voiced the word, and he sways as a rush of tension leaves him – not only because it’s finally in the open, but also because Robbie knowing means he doesn’t have to give details. He doesn’t have to explain how he can have slept with Fiona and Scarlet – the two that Robbie knows about – yet be asexual. He doesn’t need, unless he wants to at some future date, to talk about the years of struggling with his sexuality, wondering if his poor performances with women meant that he must be gay; or when his experiments with men also failed miserably, struggling to understand what’s wrong with him. 

No, not wrong. Of course not – but different, certainly. Not conforming to society’s norms – but then, that’s him all over, isn’t it? Marching to his own tune, rarely that of anyone else around him. 

All the same, he hadn’t been able to believe initially that he could be asexual because Robbie’s right: he wants to be loved. Likes – no, longs for the possibility of being physically close to someone, if only he could find the right person. 

No. The right person’s been there all along, of course. He just never knew he had permission before now. The last couple of days have been a revelation: that not only does Robbie want him as more than a friend, but also that Laura is apparently accepting of it. And, if he can believe what she said on the phone, that she might want more from him as well.

The only question is: how much more? And can they accept that he doesn’t want everything that they might want? He won’t compromise – not even for them. He’s tried in the past, and results have varied from embarrassing to truly disastrous. The truth is that he needs them – Laura as well as Robbie – too much to risk losing them by trying to offer more than he is comfortable with.

Robbie’s hand is on his arm, steady and reassuring. “That you are.” The matter–of–factness in his tone takes James’s breath away. His asexuality isn’t a surprise to Robbie. “Makes no difference to Laura an’ me, in case you were thinking otherwise.” 

His mouth’s dry. “Laura knows too?” Christ, and there she was on the phone telling him that she wanted him to kiss Robbie. That she wanted to kiss him too. And all the time she knew?

“Like I said, I thought as much. Didn’t say it to her – well, not before she said I should... you know. Didn’t exactly say it then either. Didn’t need to – she’s suspected the same for years.”

And he thought he was so good at hiding truths about himself he hasn’t wanted anyone to see. But should he really be surprised? He of all people knows Robert Lewis’s skills of deduction, insight and observation – and he’s had ten years to observe James at close quarters. As for Laura, he’s learned over the past few years never to under–estimate her either.

Does he mind? That they know, and have apparently known, or at least suspected, for _years_ , Robert said? 

But the panic, the urge to flee, or to distance himself through a cutting remark or abrupt change of subject, isn’t there now. There’s only a sense of relief that he doesn’t have to make excuses any longer – for being alone, for never dating, not making any attempts to find a partner, for showing no interest in the typical, expected rituals of mating, pairing off and reproducing.

Still, James has to swallow before he can speak, because accepting who he is in the abstract isn’t the whole story. “How can you want... I mean, I can’t be a proper partner.” Is it possible that they really can accept him as he is?

Robbie huffs, releasing a larger stream of frosty–white breath. “What d’you think I want from a partner? No, I’d better tell you, since your detective skills have clearly gone begging. I want you to be here with me. To laugh when I tell stupid jokes, an’ mock me when I need it – even when I don’t. I want you to sit on the couch next to me and quote Shakespeare or poetry or even bloody Aquinas if you want, and fall asleep with your head on my shoulder if you feel like it. I want you to know how important you are to me, and to know I’m just as important to you. I want you to tell me what _you_ need – and don’t need – from a partner. I’d like to be able to hug you sometimes – and, yeah, I’d like to kiss you. But if that’s too much for you, that’s okay.” He turns his head, and he’s smiling. “You’ll have to ask Laura what she wants, though I don’t think it’d be all that different. And, yes, this is a negotiation, and yes, sometimes that is how relationships work.”

“I can do...” His throat’s dried up again, and it’s a moment before he can continue. “All that. Yes. Please.”

Robbie turns to him, a smile hovering on his lips. “Then have what you want, bonny lad.”

Of course Robbie would insist that he makes the first move. Though that’s not what this is. After last night, when Robbie moved too quickly, without clarifying the situation with Laura or ensuring that James wanted the same thing, he’s putting James in control. 

He moves closer to Robbie. His friend – partner now? – is expecting a kiss, and James wants it too, of course he does. But even as he starts to dip his head, he knows what he wants more than a kiss. Remembers seeing Robbie off at the airport, and picking him up just a couple of months ago; that stiff farewell where the most he was able to offer was a light pat to Robbie’s back, and the ridiculous way he offered his hand to Robbie on his return. It was Robbie who’d ignored James’s idiocy and gone for a hug, of sorts.

He spreads his arms, and Robbie walks into them, taking James into his embrace. “That’s right. C’mere, pet.” James tightens his arms around Robbie in return and allows his head to fall to Robbie’s shoulder, breathing the man in, feeling more of the tension he’s held onto for far too bloody long bleed away. Robbie’s warm hand strokes the back of his head, and James lets his eyes close. This. This is what he’s been looking for and never thought he’d find.

And all those ridiculous love songs he used to scoff at Nell for listening to, all the romantic poetry he’s ever read, now make sense. Sentiments such as belonging, security, warmth, joy... needing and wanting and feeling loved – he’s understood them only in a limited context. Superficially, if at all. Now, he knows. In the past, he sought meaning, spirituality and acceptance in the Church. That wasn’t right for him either. Here, though; here, holding and being held by Robert Lewis, is all the affirmation he’s needed.

A long time later, he lifts his head and sees Robbie looking at him, eyes suspiciously bright, and it’s completely natural then to lean in and press his lips to Robbie’s. It’s clumsy; Robbie moves at the same time and their noses bump, and Robbie’s chin is hard and rough against his cheek, and it’s not at all comfortable. But it’s perfect.

They’re laughing when they break away. “Remind me never to kiss you again when you’ve just been smoking,” Robbie says, face lit up in a way James has only ever seen when Robbie’s been hugging or kissing Laura.

“And I will have to insist that you shave at least twice a day,” James counters, rubbing his face. “I don’t know how Laura puts up with it.”

Robbie loops his arm casually around James’s shoulder and steers him towards the door leading back inside. “You’ll have to compare notes.”

“We’ll gang up on you,” James says with a smirk. “No kisses if it’s more than five hours after a shave.” And that’s something he’d never have imagined saying, even wholly in jest, before now.

“That works both ways, smartarse,” Robbie points out. “Laura’s not a fan of your smoking either, remember.”

And Laura wants to kiss him. There’s a funny tilting sensation in his abdomen at that reminder. Yes, he would like to kiss her too, as long as Robbie’s comfortable with the idea – and it seems that he is. “Maybe it’s time I tried giving up again.” After all, there’s a greater incentive now than he’s ever had before.

Robbie’s hand tightens around his shoulders. “Only if you want. You don’t need to change for us, man.”

“I do want to. Stop smoking, that is.” He really does – at least, when it comes to smoking. But Robbie’s reassurance, for James, goes far beyond that specific promise. They – Laura as well as Robbie – accept him as he is, whatever that means. No pressure to give, or participate in, more than he’s comfortable with so far as being their partner is concerned. And, yes, it will help to have that reassurance direct from Laura as well, though he does trust Robbie. “If you’ll help.”

Lips press to the side of his head, and that’s all the answer he needs.

* * *

They phone Laura once they’re back inside, the two of them on speaker–phone, mainly to reassure her that they have finally managed to talk. She wants to know if they’ve done more than talk, and Robbie laughs and tells her she’ll have to wait until they’re all together in New Zealand, in about a month’s time. James, though, won’t let Robbie leave her in suspense. She has a right to know.

“He followed your instruction, Laura. Though I’m still breathing, so _perhaps_ not quite to the letter.” And he can’t quite prevent himself holding his breath. Is this really what Laura wants, or did she say it in anger? Or was it – on her part, if not Robbie’s – a last–ditch effort to hold onto Robbie, by offering him what she’d realised he wants?

“Only getting started, wasn’t I?” Robbie protests. “Just wait. Soon have him swooning from the power of me kisses.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Laura says, laughing, but James can hear a note of something else in her voice. And it’s not hurt, or betrayal. It reminds him that she’s alone out there in New Zealand, and they’re here without her. She might have helped to bring this new development about, but she can’t share in it. Yet, anyway. If she’s serious about wanting to, and he’s fairly certain that he believes it, he’ll make sure it happens.

At the thought, an unaccustomed warmth spreads through him. Yes, he wants it to happen, and not just because he owes it to Laura, who he’s pretty certain has put her own happiness at risk for Robbie and himself.

“Laura.” He cuts in before Robbie can say anything. She deserves to hear this, even if it’s a significant leap for him. “I’d quite like to kiss you, too, if you meant what you said earlier.” 

Robbie’s hand immediately lands on his shoulder and squeezes, and Robbie’s smiling affectionately, approvingly, at him. Laura laughs lightly. “Oh, I meant it.”

The warmth, that sense of being welcomed in from the cold, intensifies. It’ll take some getting used to, being wanted. “I’ll look forward to it.”

“Good.” Robbie’s smiling, looking happier than James has seen him in weeks. “For now, though, we’re gonna be doing a lot of snuggling on the sofa. Bloody cold over here now, it is. An’ that’s not your cue to be smug about it being summer down there, Laura!”

“I’m wearing shorts today,” she replies airily. “But snuggling sounds very appealing. Good thing we have a three–seater sofa. I’ll look forward to joining you when I’m back in Oxford.” 

When, not if. Has James’s openness to a threesome relationship, of whatever type, made Laura feel that she can come home – that she hasn’t lost everything with Robbie? Has _he_ made that possible? He already admired Laura Hobson more than anyone else he knows aside from Robbie, and that admiration only increased with the patience and forbearance she showed him before they went to New Zealand. Right now, if he had the opportunity, he would indeed kiss her and tell her that she’s a woman beyond price.

As they head upstairs to bed a little later, Robbie squeezes James’s shoulder again, and his gaze is fond. 

Just as he’s asked himself many times over the past ten years, James wonders once again how it is that he has been so fortunate. To have encountered Robbie Lewis in the first place, and then have the man accept him as his bagman. To discover that Robbie is not only the kindest man he’s ever met, but also the most intuitive – and discreet. And the most forgiving, considering all the times James has wronged him, lied to him or behaved badly to him.

And now Robbie has simply accepted what James is. He’s put his relationship with Laura at risk – whatever he says about it being a mutual agreement to put things on hold, James isn’t so certain that it was that simple, or so mutual. Robbie had discovered feelings for James, and Laura – also being a truly caring and generous person – gave him the freedom to see what could be. And after the enormous risk he took, and the leap of faith that James might feel the same way, Robbie’s now discovered that James can’t fully offer in return what Robbie might have wanted. Being the incredibly generous man that he is, Robbie’s accepted him regardless. 

He really should have anticipated that Robbie would have figured it out. Not only is the man the sharpest mind he’s ever come across, but he’s also been able to read James almost from the beginning. And of course he’d understand what James does and doesn’t want out of a relationship, and would leave it to James to set the pace. He’ll have to talk to Laura, to ensure that she understands his limits – but on reflection, he realises it’s not something he’s worried about, given what he knows of Laura. He does owe it to her to explain, though, and he will.

* * *

So, the following morning when Robbie comes into the kitchen, James has breakfast already waiting for him, and he greets Robbie with a gentle kiss. There’s no time to linger, as Robbie’s already had a call from his sergeant to say there are potential developments in the hate–crime case, and he has to gulp his coffee and run.

It’s late afternoon and James is alone in his office when he glances up to see what’s caused the shadow across his doorway. “Oh, it’s you.” He smiles at Robbie. “Missed me already?”

“Don’t just want you for your good looks, do I? Need to borrow that oversized brain of yours.” Robbie comes in and pulls up a chair to the side of James’s desk.

James saves the document he was working on. “How can I help? Is this the attack on that family?” He did second a couple of his DCs to the investigation earlier, to help with the door–to–door questioning.

“Yeah.” Robbie spreads out some interview records and timelines. “We got some names from the house–to–house and from asking around in community groups. And then we interviewed the people whose names came up. They’ve all got alibis–”

“Of course.”

“Yeah. But there’s something off about a couple of them. Can’t put my finger on it, though. Take a look? See if you agree.”

This is the sort of thing they’d always puzzled out together: finding inconsistencies, those tiny little details that either didn’t add up or were just too unlikely to be true. And if Robbie’s come to him now, then he’s not finding the same synergy with Grainger’s sergeant. But then, good as Maddox is, she isn’t Robbie Lewis either.

“Look at this,” he says after reading through all the statements. “His alibi’s the barman at the City Arms. And there’s this one–” He picks up a different statement. “Also alibied by the barman at the City Arms. So, if they were both there on the evening in question...”

“Then why didn’t they alibi each other?” Robbie finishes. He gathers up the papers. “Should’ve seen that one meself. Must have too much on me mind.”

“Actually, the DCs who took the statements should have seen it,” James points out. 

“There is that.” Robbie stands, squeezing James’s shoulder as he does. “Thanks, man. See you at home later?”

The thought of what _later_ might entail keeps James distracted from his work for several minutes, until Lizzie breezes in, bearing mugs of tea and updates on their own investigations, snapping him out of thoughts of sofa–snuggling and lazy kisses with Robbie.

* * *

Two weeks later, Christmas is almost upon them and they’ve barely seen each other in the interim. Robbie made arrests in the hate–crime case and got confessions, and the suspects have been up in court and remanded in custody until their trial. No sooner had that case wrapped up than Robbie’s team was assigned to a murder, which turned out to be multiple murders. At the same time, Moody put James in charge of a particularly nasty cyber–bullying investigation.

“Not that I have a problem with it, but I don’t understand why he’s not calling in the cyber–crimes specialists,” James says to Robbie on one of the few occasions they’ve had a chance for a pint together, a week or so before Christmas.

Robbie smiles, amused for some reason. “He’s testing you, man. Told you he’s got his eye on you for promotion, and I know you’re not unaware of that, so don’t look so sceptical.”

“Considering that not so long ago he wasn’t certain I was capable of doing the job without your guiding hand, I do find that hard to believe.” His fingers twitch, muscle memory wanting to reach for a cigarette. 

Robbie, sitting next to him on the pew in a quiet nook of the White Horse, reaches out and wraps James’s fingers in his own warm hand, clasping them together on his lap. And just how he knew what James needed – well, the man has had years to study James’s body language. He’ll just have to get better at hiding those giveaway signs. Or maybe one of the benefits of this new relationship is that he no longer needs to.

He’s smoked precisely two cigarettes since the night he and Robbie first kissed, on both occasions stress–related. Once Lizzie realised he was trying to give up, though, she started carrying around sugar–free mints – “Can’t have you putting on weight from all the extra sugar, sir!” – and generally making sure that he was sufficiently distracted on the type of occasions he’d usually reach for a cigarette. Laura’s told him that he gets an extra kiss and a hug for every day he goes cigarette–free – assuming he wants them, she said, and he’s assured her he does. He does, very much; even though he can now kiss and hug Robbie to his heart’s content, there are days when he longs to see and touch Laura, when her voice on the phone simply isn’t enough. And investigations when the other pathologists on the rotation irritate the hell out of him simply through not being Laura.

He’d never expected to miss her this much, had he? Oh, he’d known being without Robbie for half a year would be pure hell, and it had been. But missing Laura had sneaked up on him, taken him entirely by surprise. Now, with the prospect of being welcomed into the warm, comfortable unit that Robbie and Laura have become over the past couple of years, this waiting to find out whether it really is possible is hard to bear.

He has talked to Laura alone a couple of times, though in his usual awkward–sod fashion it’s been difficult to put some things into words. But he has verified that she knows the limits on what he could offer, and she’s assured him that it’s a complete non–issue, in her inimitably matter–of–fact style. _“There’s no pressure, James. We don’t want you for your body, even though it is very nice to look at. We want you for_ you. _Simple as that. If a bit of kissing and cuddling comes along with it, that’ll be a bonus.”_ If he’d had any nebulous worries that she – or both of them – would ever try to persuade him into more than he’s willing to engage in, that conversation banished them.

Robbie pulls his attention back to their conversation. “You know Moody’s opinion of you changed, and not before time. Mind, it helped that you stopped trying to wind him up. It wasn’t his fault he wasn’t Innocent.” 

Promotion to DCI? He’s really not sure he wants that, and once he and Robbie have a bit more free time he’ll want to talk it through properly. He enjoys being a DI, much though he’d thought a few years ago that he wasn’t interested. The paperwork’s a nuisance, but he’d done plenty of that as Robbie’s bagman. He’s turning out to be fairly effective in managing a team – and both Robbie and Lizzie have helped there, mostly in giving him the kick up the backside he needed. The politics is the worst part of the job, and that would only increase the further up the ladder he climbs. On the other hand, it might allow him to focus more on the kind of investigation he enjoys, if he can move into a specialist unit – and, since Maddox has started hinting about inspector’s exams, and he can’t deny that she’s ready, perhaps he could take her with him. 

Robbie’s mobile beeps, and he scowls, looking at it. “Gonna have to go. See you later? Want to know what we’re doing for Christmas.”

“Not a lot,” James says as Robbie drains his glass. “I’m on duty. You don’t have to work, though, not with your contract.”

Pulling on his coat, Robbie shakes his head slightly. “Don’t want to be home without you. And I’m not going up to Lyn’s. She’ll never leave off asking about Laura. Nah, I’ll be at the nick with you.”

Left to finish his drink, James watches Robbie hurry off and smiles into his pint. _Plus ça change..._ While things have changed between him and Robbie since that evening, the differences are fewer than he might have expected. It’s only since he’s been free to touch and hold and kiss Robbie that he’s realised how close they always were anyway, both physically and emotionally. Robbie automatically reaching to soothe James when he’s stressed or fretful? He’s done that for years. Being in each other’s personal space, close enough to touch if either of them were to move an inch or so? Nothing new. The only difference is that now they do touch. 

He does still have to pinch himself occasionally to assure himself that it’s all really happening, that he’s not still indulging in one of the many guilty daydreams he’s had over the years. How he can possibly express his thanks and gratitude to Robbie and Laura for allowing him this is something he’s been wrestling with.

It’s not enough that, as Laura would tell him, Robbie isn’t alone and that James is keeping an eye on all the things that matter to her while she’s away; he would have done that regardless of recent developments. And, yes, he’s keeping Robbie company, helping him to occupy those hours he’s not working – but, likewise, he would have done that anyway. No; he owes the two of them a debt of gratitude that will be hard to repay.

But, as he puts his coat on and walks out of the pub on his way back to the nick, an idea comes to mind which would at least be a start...

* * *

“Brr! It’s nippy as hell out there!” Robbie comes into the kitchen late on Christmas Eve, rubbing his reddened hands together. “Wouldn’t be surprised if the roads are icy in the morning, an’ us going into work.”

James leaves the saucepan he’s stirring for long enough to kiss Robbie. “Your face is cold. Go and sit down.” He gestures through the doorway into the living room. “I’ll bring this through.”

Robbie peers around him. “Mulled wine? Haven’t had that in years.”

“I learned to make it in the seminary.” He gives Robbie a quick smile; Robbie has commented once or twice that he knows so little about James’s life before they met. He’s trying to do better, and actually it’s a lot easier these days; once Robbie and Laura found out about his family and actually met his father and sister, and the sky didn’t fall... well, it’s hard to remember why he wants to be secretive. And it means a lot to Robbie that he’s less so, which makes it all worth it.

Instead of moving to the couch, Robbie stands closer to James. “That was a nice thing you did for Lizzie. You old softie.”

James arches one eyebrow. “I know not of which you speak.”

“Yeah, yeah. Lizzie phoned me on her way to the airport. Told me all about it.”

And next time he does his sergeant a favour, he’ll ensure that she knows it’s not to be talked about. “All I did was suggest to Moody that she’s been putting in a lot of hours and deserved a decent break over Christmas.”

“You’re saying you didn’t get in touch with Tony last week and strongly recommend that he buy her a return ticket to Toronto?” Robbie’s grinning now, and James can’t help smiling in response.

“Just as well it’s been a mild winter so far in that part of Canada this year, isn’t it? No flight delays. Now, scoot. I’ll be there shortly.”

He brings the tray of mulled wine and mince pies a few minutes later and joins Robbie on the couch. “Thought we were phoning Laura?” Robbie raises an eyebrow. 

“We are. Just getting into the festive mood. It’s already Christmas Day for her, after all.” James opens his laptop and clicks on a program he already has set up. Immediately, Skype dials, and seconds later the video screen opens, revealing Laura at the other end, a glass of mulled wine in her hand, as agreed. 

“What? When did you two arrange this?” The joy on Robbie’s face is all James was hoping for.

“James’s idea,” Laura says. “Mind you, I should have thought of it. Skype’s as easy as a phone call.”

James leans forward, smiling. “You’re looking tanned. All ready for Christmas on the beach?”

“It feels weird, but I’m sure I’ll survive.” She shifts closer to the camera. “You two look good. Happy.”

Robbie loops his arm around James’s shoulders. “Yeah. Miss you, though.”

He didn’t expect this, that Robbie would be so openly affectionate with him in front of Laura – but then, perhaps he should have. It’s not as if they’ve been talking about separate relationships between each two of the three, but something between all three of them. He glances at Robbie, a faint question, all the same. Robbie gives him the same fondly amused smile that he’s so used to seeing when he’s being idiotic. With a quick smile, he settles back against Robbie and turns his smile to Laura. “Yes. Looking forward to seeing you.”

James watches Laura carefully as they talk, looking for any indication that she’s hurt by seeing the two of them together, but there’s nothing. She looks nothing but happy, pleased to see them through the video–link, though she stresses that she misses them both and can’t wait to see them in the new year. And then, when she drains her glass, she says, “Go on, then.”

“What?” Robbie looks back at her.

“You know.” She tilts her chin in James’s direction.

“What?” James asks. Robbie gestures to Laura to explain.

“Would you kiss Robbie?” she asks, almost abrupt. “For me.”

He almost asks why. It seems a strange request to make, that her partner, the man she loves, kiss someone else in front of her. Because she wants him to know beyond a doubt that she doesn’t mind? Because he’s seen the two of them kiss many times and she wants him, for once, not to be the one on the outside? Because she wants to be certain that he really is comfortable with this sort of intimacy?

Oddly, the idea of kissing Robbie while Laura watches through the computer doesn’t feel weird to him. True, it’s a bit more than hugging Laura and kissing her cheek at the airport while Robbie watched. But he already knows, from his conversations with both of them, that they both would like to be physically affectionate with him, as much as he’s comfortable with.

Robbie’s already turning towards him, sliding his hand along the side of James’s face and into his hair, and reaching up to kiss him. 

James is becoming used to having the freedom to kiss Robbie, and the warmth and _belonging_ that always accompanies kisses. This is different, though. The awareness that Laura’s watching makes him awkward, uncertain. He’d like to kiss Robbie. He’d even like Laura to see it, to show her that he and Robbie really have taken this step together. But is she really comfortable with it? He glances towards the laptop again, 

Robbie’s hand slides to the back of his neck, caressing, soothing. “Relax, bonny lad. C’mere. Only if you want to, mind.”

His gaze flicks to Laura, her wide–eyed, expectant face staring out through his laptop screen. “James.” Her voice is affectionate and encouraging. “Please.” No, much more than encouraging. She _wants_ to see this. Maybe it’s not important to find out why right now; asking would probably kill the moment, something he’s demonstrated a talent for in the past. Laura wants this, and he can give it to her. 

He turns back to Robbie and takes the man’s face between his hands, and brings their lips together, pouring everything he feels for Robbie Lewis into that kiss: all the years of loyalty and friendship, gratitude and need – and love. And Robbie kisses him back, careful to observe the limits of what James is comfortable with, but at the same time _claiming_ him, unequivocally. 

When they break apart, James is breathing heavily, and Robbie is grinning. And, as he turns to look at the laptop, Laura is smiling, her eyes bright. “Lovely. Thank you. You two always did make such a handsome couple, you know. I just wish I was with you both.”

She did like watching them, which makes him wonder: maybe, now that he’s welcome to kiss either of them, he might feel less awkward or excluded watching them kiss. In his head, he’s visualising kissing Laura in front of Robbie – and Robbie’s watching them with that fond pride in his eyes that James knows so well. He’s got a lot to learn about how this will all work, he’s aware, but he can do worse than follow their cues.

Robbie’s hand curls around James’s. “Me too, love. But it won’t be long.”

“Yeah.” James swallows. “Just over a week.”

“Can’t wait.” Laura leans forward again. “I need to go in a minute. You two, look after each other. Sleep well!”

Robbie nods, still holding James’s hand. “You have a lovely day, pet.”

People less socially awkward than him would have something meaningful to say here, James knows. He can’t resist the impulse to recite a favourite reading instead; the faith he hasn’t quite lost, despite his many crises of conscience. 

“ _And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people._ ”

Robbie just smiles and squeezes James’s hand before leaning forward to close the laptop. And that’s enough to tell James that he understands the sentiment. 

“S’pose we’d better get to bed, then.” Robbie smothers a yawn, then looks around at James. “Was wondering... would you sleep with me tonight? Just to cuddle, like.”

_Yes, please_ are the words that spring instantly to his lips, but he holds them back. What would Laura think? But, he reminds himself, Robbie’s been right every step of the way so far regarding Laura’s reactions. It’s time he trusted Robbie more here.

He stands, holding a hand down to help Robbie up. “I’d like that very much. Thank you.”

* * *

It’s no wonder Robbie’s called him an awkward sod. James certainly feels it as he undresses and, after a longer debate with himself than night attire really calls for, pulls on the T–shirt and brushed cotton boxers he sleeps in. They’ve agreed that Robbie will join him in his bed, as James doesn’t feel comfortable sharing the bed Robbie previously shared with Laura – and most likely will again, judging by the phone conversations he’s been privy to lately. Nothing explicit, but it’s clear that the temporary hiatus in their relationship is at an end, or will be once they’re reunited. 

He’s never done this before, that’s the problem. Sex, yes, and the less said about that the better. But not sleeping with someone, spending the entire night in the same bed. That intimacy is new, and it’s terrifying.

Robbie wanders in, dressed in pale blue cotton pyjamas, and instantly raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. James can hear the _daft sod_ without Robbie even needing to say it – and also knows, without any other prompting, that Robbie understands exactly why he’s hesitating. “Go on, into bed with you. Too cold to be standing around like that.” No hesitation on Robbie’s part, clearly. No concerns that he’s sharing a bed with a bloke instead of a woman – instead of Laura.

Once Robbie joins him and extends an arm in welcome, it’s easy enough that he can’t remember why the idea was intimidating. He slides across until he’s lying against Robbie’s side, with an arm firmly around his shoulders, his head resting on Robbie’s shoulder. “Comfortable?”

“Entirely.” He rests his own arm across Robbie’s chest, and Robbie brings his other arm across so he can rest his hand on top of James’s. Fitting together, the two of them, as if designed. He’d pinch himself if Robbie wouldn’t feel the motion and ask about it; to be lying here with Robbie like this after so many years of yearning for a closeness he thought he’d never have feels like a dream. To have permission – no, _encouragement_ – to touch and hold and kiss, not only from Robbie but from Laura too... better than anything he could have dared imagine.

“You’ll be able to sleep like this, so?”

“Mmm.” He presses a kiss against the side of Robbie’s head, and then as Robbie turns towards him they kiss properly, slow and lingering, and if he hadn’t already, long ago, fallen in love with this man beyond the point of any return he’d have tumbled again, irrevocably.

What the logistics will be like once Laura is with them again is beyond his ability to speculate. Not for the first time, he wishes for even a portion of Robbie’s optimism, because in his experience it’s usually when he dares to feel happy that things fall apart.

“Can hear you fretting all the way over here.” Robbie’s arm tightens around him. “Go to sleep, canny lad. Christmas in the morning.”

And Christmas, this year, will be truly lovely. “All right,” he mumbles, and lets Robbie soothe him to sleep.

* * *


	6. Epilogue: Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it at last - the final chapter!
> 
> Here, I want to acknowledge and bestow flowers at the feet of Owlbsurfinbird, who has been a tower of strength and a fount of ideas, suggestions and gentle correction during the writing of this fic. She has been endlessly patient with multiple drafts, and kindness itself in giving feedback, particularly where that feedback was essentially 'rewrite' ;) Thank you so much, Owl!
> 
> * * *

It’s a beautiful, sunny day as their plane descends into Auckland Airport, coming down through the clouds over the coast of North Island. Robbie points out some of the landmarks, including Rangitoo Island, though James is content just to look at the sparkling jewel–blue sea below them. 

Robbie’s waxed eloquent about the sights he hopes to get to show James in the ten days they’ll be in New Zealand – well, once they get over jet–lag, which Robbie’s warned him will be a bastard after flying for twenty–four hours and with a time–difference of twelve hours. James is hoping to see some of the magnificent coast, as well as spending a couple of days driving in the interior.

Most of all, he’s looking forward to seeing Laura, as is Robbie. But James can’t help feeling trepidation as well. Even though Laura has made clear every time they’ve spoken on the phone in the last month that she’s happy about the way things have developed, he can’t help the swirling anxiety in the pit of his stomach. What if, once she’s actually with Robbie again, she won’t want to share him with James? What if she really can’t bear to see Robbie kiss or hug him? What if she doesn’t want to share those things with James, despite what she’s said?

It’s unease about Laura’s reaction when they’re finally together again that’s kept James from sharing Robbie’s bed again, after that one night. And, yes, Robbie thinks he’s being over–cautious, but he’s respected James’s feelings on the matter and hasn’t tried to change his mind. They’ll see once they’re with Laura, Robbie’s said, looking and sounding perfectly confident. And, yes, James has reminded himself, Robbie should know. Still, it’s not easy to banish the uncertainty entirely.

Laura can’t meet them at the airport. She’s been invited to deliver this year’s annual lecture to the entire faculty – a huge honour – and it can’t be rescheduled. Robbie assures her that it’s fine, that they’ll get a taxi to her house. James is privately relieved not to have what has the potential to be an awkward reunion in front of hundreds of strangers in the arrivals hall.

Laura has rented a house near Western Park, not far from the university, and there’s a car in the driveway when the taxi pulls up outside. James grabs the luggage while Robbie pays the driver, and they’re no more than halfway up the garden path when the door’s pulled wide open to reveal Laura, a wide smile on her face. Other than the formal suit she’s wearing – very different from scrubs or casual lounging–around–the–house clothes – she looks no different from the last time Robbie saw her. 

“Come in, come in! I just got back five minutes ago.” Laura steps back, beckoning them inside and into a bright, comfortable room that runs the entire length of the house. James can see trees through the rear window. She looks from one to the other, eyes wide and excited. Happy. “It’s so good to see you. Both of you.”

Robbie reaches for her, almost swinging her off her feet, and kisses her thoroughly. “It’s good to see you, too, love. Missed you, so much.” His voice sounds thick, and James averts his gaze. This feels like a deeply personal reunion. 

“I missed you too.” Laura pulls Robbie’s head down, pressing their foreheads together. “So many times I thought I should just have come back with you.”

Robbie kisses her again. “You were right, pet. Besides, you love what you’re doing at the university. Don’t pretend you don’t. And we want to hear how your presentation went.”

She nods, swallows, and then turns away from Robbie to James. “Later. Come here, you.” 

A little awkwardly – legs must be stiff after all that time on the plane, of course – he walks over to her. “It’s lovely to see you, Laura.”

She tilts her head to one side. “You’re still a lanky sod, James. Even on tiptoes I can’t reach you.”

He’s also a bloody awkward sod still, isn’t he? Even though he and Robbie have talked about this, and they’ve talked with Laura, James still isn’t certain what the etiquette should be here. Not after seeing the two of them together.

Yet Robbie’s smiling warmly at him, and Laura’s eyes are shining, and it’s suddenly easy to dip his head and brush his lips over hers, and to deepen the kiss when her arms come around his neck. And it feels right, as so few things in his life ever have – as anything connected with Robbie always has. 

And then Robbie’s arms are around the two of them as he presses kisses to the top of Laura’s head or the side of James’s face or wherever he can reach, and he knows he had nothing to worry about at all. As he should have known. When has trusting Robbie ever steered him wrong? This – the two of them, holding him, kissing him, welcoming him, letting him in where he never dreamed he could be admitted – it seems he’s found a place to belong. Loved ones, even.

As Robbie once said to him, it’s _good strange. Very good._

“James, at last,” Laura says, voice soft, as she holds him tightly. “At last.”

* * *

Robbie starts yawning a few minutes later. “Barely slept on the plane,” he tells Laura. “Had this one yammering in my ear the entire flight, didn’t I?”

James shakes his head in dismay. “I can see I’m going to have to work harder on training you out of your habit of exaggerating.”

“Oh, you’ll never succeed on that one!” Laura leads the way to the stairs. “A nap for an hour or so won’t hurt you. No longer or you’ll never sleep tonight.”

“Yes, Doctor.” But Robbie’s grumble is overtaken by another huge yawn, and immediately heads for the stairs.

The small house has two bedrooms, Laura explains. The larger bedroom is at the back, overlooking the garden and the park beyond. There’s a bathroom on the other side of the landing, and then the second bedroom at the front. She shows them the bigger bedroom first, in which the very large bed – it has to be six feet wide – dominates the room.

Laura touches James’s arm. “Both beds are comfortable. There’s room for all three of us here, if you want – but I didn’t know if you’d want to be on your own or just with Robbie, so there’s next door if you prefer. Or if you’d like Robbie to come next door with you.” 

In other words, Laura’s not asserting a prior claim to anything other than this bed – and she’s also making clear that she’d welcome him if he cares to sleep with her and Robbie, and that’s something he hadn’t quite anticipated. One thing, though, he realises he has no concerns about: like Robbie, Laura isn’t expecting – or hoping for – anything he can’t give. She hasn’t said anything, but she doesn’t need to. He trusts the two of them more than anyone else he’s ever known, and respects their intelligence just as much.

He bends to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.” And her kindness in offering him options deserves as generous a response. “I think I’d like to share, but occasionally I might want to be alone. Or you two might want to.”

“We’ll figure it out.” Her smile is fond, and her fingers on his arm press lightly. “Go on, get some rest. I won’t stay with you now – I need some sunshine, and I want to jot down some notes from this morning. I’ll be in the garden reading when you’re feeling more human again.”

“Up to you, man,” Robbie says once she’s gone downstairs after more hugs. “Come an’ snuggle with me for a bit? Or would you prefer to be on your tod?” 

He has no hesitation whatsoever in answering. “With you.”

* * *

James wakes about an hour later to the sound of Robbie’s gentle snoring. He slides carefully out of bed to avoid waking the man he’s now coming to think of as his partner – one of his partners. 

Dressed in a T–shirt and jeans, he makes his way out to the garden to find Laura, who’s changed out of her suit into a T–shirt and capri pants, sitting at a round table under a large, cheerful umbrella, sipping lemonade. She smiles up at him and sets her book down, lifting her face for a kiss.

“That’s better than Skyping.” He allows his mouth to curve upwards as he drops into a garden chair next to Laura.

“So I should hope.” She pours him some lemonade. “Robbie still snoring?”

His slight smile widens into a grin. “Oh, yes.”

“Lovely. Just as I’d got used to sleeping without that particular accompaniment. _You_ slept well?”

His lips quirk. “I did. If you can sleep at boarding school, you can sleep anywhere.” 

Laura grins. “I’d love to see his face when you tell him that!” She reaches over to grip James’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re both here.”

“I’m glad too.” He falls silent, debating how best to raise the questions he still has – the reason he came down alone to speak to Laura. 

She squeezes his hand. “I know you’ve got questions, James. Concerns, probably. Go on.”

He nods, takes her on trust and just says what’s uppermost in his mind. “I don’t understand why you’d be willing to share Robbie with me.”

Her gaze on him doesn’t waver. “Oh, James. That’s simple. Because I realised I very much wanted him to share you with me.”

It’s an answer that takes his breath away – and yet it only answers a few of his questions. 

“Robbie didn’t tell you what happened, did he? Course he wouldn’t have. The concept of communication’s still something of a mystery to the two of you, isn’t it?” Laura’s still holding his hand, and he couldn’t let her go even if she wanted. “We missed you. Well, he did, a lot, and once we started to talk about it I realised I missed you too.” He arches one eyebrow. That can’t be all it was – it’s certainly not enough to have led to them splitting up, even if it was temporary, or a trial, or whatever it was supposed to have been.

Laura sighs, wryly amused. “All right, DI Hathaway, it wasn’t that simple. Oh, we were fine for the first two or three months, but then I gradually realised that Robbie wasn’t happy – which is when I realised that I wasn’t really happy either. We started taking it out on each other, and when we weren’t doing that it seemed as if Robbie was talking about you all the time. And – well, we had an argument, and I accused Robbie of wishing that he’d stayed behind with you instead of coming with me.” She pulls a face. “ _In vino veritas_. He didn’t deny it.”

“Christ,” James says, very softly. Part of him’s questioning whether he should even be here – whether his need to believe what both Robbie and Laura have told him is real has impacted his judgement and decisions. Is he trespassing where he shouldn’t, despite all they’ve said? “But it isn’t true, Laura. You know that. He loves you, and when it came down to it he chose you – over the _job_ , incidentally, not me.”

Laura’s smile is fond and very affectionate. “The job _is_ you, James. And he–” 

“Laura.” He cuts across her, because this is important. “Forget what Robbie wants. What about you? What do you want? Because I don’t have to be part of this if it makes you unhappy. I don’t _want_ to be part of this if it makes you unhappy.”

She pulls her hand free, smacking his forearm. “You’re a daft sod, James Hathaway, as Robbie would say. I’ve told you already, and I mean it,” she adds, a note in her voice that he knows only too well means _shut up and listen_. “If I didn’t want this – if I didn’t want _you_ – I’d never have agreed to it when Robbie suggested it. And he would never have suggested it if he hadn’t already known I cared about you as much as he did. I want this. I want you and Robbie. And, to finish what you wouldn’t let me say a minute ago: yes, Robbie loves the job. And, yes, he loves me. But he loves you, too.”

“Aye, she’s right.” James swings around; Robbie’s standing just outside the French doors, watching them. “I do. I love both of you.”

_Love_. It’s a word that’s often used far too lightly, but one James has hardly ever uttered himself – and one he’s never heard Robbie use before, except as a pet–name for Laura or his daughter. Hearing it directed at him... If Robbie were expecting any kind of response from him right now, James would be powerless to speak. 

“And so do I.” Laura reaches for James’s hand again, preventing him from pulling away. Not that he could. No, it’s not really a surprise, of course; Robbie might not have said it, but he’s shown it. And Laura has too, both before and after the two of them left for New Zealand nine months ago. But hearing the word – that, he hadn’t expected. It brings a lump to his throat, together with a swell of relief that this is real, this is what Laura wants, and he can allow himself it have it. To have _them_.

Robbie comes over and stands between them, laying a hand on each of their shoulders. “Laura loves me enough that she was willing to let me go when we realised how I felt about you, man. But we talked about it, and I realised that she wasn’t just joking all those years when she talked about you being _dishy_. She thinks you’re better–looking than me, but I reckon she just needs glasses.” Robbie’s lips quirk into an amused grin. “Course, I’d no idea whether you’d even consider bein’ with me, but I thought maybe if you were willing to take me on, then maybe you’d consider both of us.”

And thus Robbie sums up in a few words what James is certain had to be weeks of argument and uncertainty between the two of them. Part of him wants to shake Robbie for risking what he had with Laura, which James _knows_ had made him so happy and is something he’d been so fortunate to find again after losing Val. Risking that for the chance that he might find some kind of happiness with James, without knowing whether James would even be interested.

“You’re alarming James, Robbie,” Laura says. “James, in case it’s never occurred to you that you’re someone who could be needed and missed – and loved – well, you are. And you were. Robbie missed you so much he couldn’t wait to go home and see you again. And I missed you too, but by the time we talked properly about it I’d already accepted the contract at the university. And Robbie’s right – it is something I wanted to do. But I’ll be coming home to you both when the year’s up.”

James nods. “Why did Robert intimate that the two of you had split up?” He glances over his shoulder at Robbie, who smiles wryly and comes to sit in the other chair.

“I wanted Robbie to be free, if that’s what he wanted,” Laura says, and there’s a faint shadow in her eye as she speaks. “I _hoped_ that he and you would sort things between you and that I’d still be welcome, but I wasn’t going to stand in the way of what Robbie really wanted.”

Robbie reaches across to take Laura’s hand. “I wanted both of you. I know, bloody selfish of me. Couldn’t just make a decision and stick with it like anyone else. When I was with you, love, I missed James. And then back in England with James... I loved bein’ with him again, but I missed you.”

“Good.” Laura smiles.

“Laura.” She turns to James. “I would never have taken Robbie from you. I hope you know th–”

She laughs. “Of course I do. It’s why I made sure that you understood he was free if he wanted to be. But I hoped all along that you’d be open to this.” She looks over at Robbie and then back to James.

“I thought you might,” Robbie says. “Couldn’t tell you why – gut instinct told me, that’s all. Knew you were fond of Laura.” 

_Fond_. It sounds so lukewarm. They’ve both said it; it’s time he did. And, yes, he _wants_ to say it. “I love you, Robert Lewis. I have for more years than I care to admit. And, though I didn’t realise it until much more recently, I started to fall in love with you, Laura, once you and Robbie were together. All those evenings at your house, I think, and you were always so welcoming, never minding me hanging around, or monopolising Robbie at your dinner–parties.”

It feels as if he’s letting one final protective shield down in articulating how much they mean to him. As he lets it go, it strikes him that he doesn’t feel more vulnerable as a consequence, but stronger.

Robbie leans forward, across the table, and beckons to James, who leans closer to him, and in return he gets a kiss. 

Then Robbie reaches for Laura, tugging her over to sit on his lap despite her laughter–filled protests. Wrapping his arms around her, he kisses her, slowly and deliberately. And this time James isn’t even tempted to look away. Instead, he watches and smiles. Finally, all’s right with the world – at least for now. The Borromean ring complete at last.

* * *

“Told Laura your news yet?” All three of them are sipping lemonade under Laura’s large umbrella, and Robbie nudges James.

“Not yet.” James takes a long drink, then smiles at Laura. “Thought I’d leave it to himself to tell.”

Robbie sighs, that old familiar mock–exasperated sound James knows and loves. “He’s only gonna make DCI in a couple of months.”

Laura’s eyes widen. “You’re joking! James?” He nods with a half–smile. “That’s wonderful! You really are back on the fast track, aren’t you? It’s only been – what, three years since you became a DI?”

“And a bloody good DI he’s been too,” Robbie says, and the naked pride on his face makes James blush. “Should’ve been promoted years before then, o’course, but he was a stubborn sod. Moody knows he’s one of the best coppers he’s got.”

“The other being you,” James points out, and it’s completely true. He turns to Laura. “The powers–that–be have finally decided to establish a Major Crimes Unit in Oxford. Long overdue – we’ve been acting as an MCU for years when the need arose, even though we don’t have the funding or the resources. Joe’s been pushing for it ever since he arrived.”

“Just carrying on Jean Innocent’s lobbying,” Robbie points out, and James nods. That’s certainly true, though James hadn’t been aware of it until recently.

“Anyway, he’s asked me to apply for the position,” James explains.

“The only candidate,” Robbie puts in, reaching to stroke James’s back.

“I do have conditions,” James points out loftily. “Lizzie, first – I’m taking her with me, of course, but I want her sitting OSPRE as soon as possible, and then promoted to Acting DI as soon as she passes. She’s treading water where she is,” he explains. “It’s not before time.” And, he hopes, it’ll help at least to some degree with the combination of boredom and loneliness that’s sending her off clubbing every night she’s not working and pretending she doesn’t miss Tony with every breath of her being.

“Makes sense,” Laura agrees. “She’s clever, that one. Definitely a match for the two of you.”

“And I’ve said I want at least sixty per cent of Robert’s time in the Unit. Probably won’t get that much, but I actually want fifty, so I’ll settle for that.” He grins.

“Orderin’ my time now, are you?” Robbie raises an eyebrow.

“Of course.” 

“And why am I only wanted half the time, anyway? Could be offended, I could.”

Because Moody needs him elsewhere, of course, and would never agree to it, and Robbie knows that. “You do have to solve some crimes on your own, you know. Otherwise no–one would believe you’re capable of it without me.” He smirks, and Laura laughs.

Turning to Laura, James arches an eyebrow back in Robbie’s direction. “But I haven’t told you the best bit.” He leans closer to Laura, confidingly. “Because Robert is a consultant, he’s stuck at the rank of Inspector. He’ll have to call _me_ sir!”

* * *


End file.
